


The Utpala Hell

by morphogenesis



Category: NG (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Case Fic, Crossover, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining bc they're dumb, Past Amanome/Hazuki, Post-Canon, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphogenesis/pseuds/morphogenesis
Summary: Winter, 2009. Teenage boys are disappearing all over the city, and rumors abound. Akira assumes it has nothing to do with him until Hazuki contacts him with some interesting information and a terrible reminder:It has been ten years since the NG Days.And so Akira's everyday life comes to an end yet again, with his old friends along for the ride.
Relationships: Amanome Seiji/Kijima Akira, Kijima Akira & Kijima Ami
Comments: 46
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

The alley is quiet now.

Akira spits blood at the brick wall, but his mouth is still full of the metallic taste. The guy at his feet, some victim of Amanome’s who tried to take pathetic revenge, is unconscious. Akira thinks the last time he got hit that hard was when he was still fighting in the UG Match. He never needs to hit anyone these days, and honestly he gets bored. He’s bitten through his lip, but beneath his skin his blood is rushing with excitement.

“That’s disgusting,” Amanome says behind him. When Akira turns, Amanome is idly spinning his umbrella, twisting it again and again between his gloved hands. His frosty breaths make the air feel even colder. He steps over and kicks the unconscious man lightly in the ribs; the man moans and twitches and Amanome nods, satisfied that he’s alive. “That would’ve been a pain to clean up.”

Joking, Akira pretends he’s going to spit on the other and Amanome grunts and shoves him with his umbrella. He shudders when the sleet touches his skin and retreats beneath it. He’s not going to offer it to Akira; Akira doesn’t need to ask to know. The sleet came on suddenly in his view, although Ami would tell him if he bothered to watch the news he would know it was forecasted.

“Are you just gonna leave him here?” Akira has a lot of blood on his hands and he turns a blind eye to a lot, but blatantly leaving someone to die of exposure is too much.

“So soft,” Amanome says, pulling out his phone. A call and he’s arranged to have someone come pick the man up, speaking in short, snappy tones because he and Akira are already late. When he hangs up he changes the subject. “As much as I’d like to, we can’t keep her waiting.”

It’s an average day for them. The only thing remarkable about it is that it’s New Year’s Eve and they have an appointment instead of attending the Family’s annual party, Akira watching Amanome swan around the room finessing everyone while Akira just wishes he could go home.

When Akira got the email inviting him to dinner on New Year’s, he was half-asleep and rolled over and promptly passed out again only to wake to find that it wasn’t a dream. Hazuki had emailed him for the first time in two years, asking to meet. She sent the same one to Amanome, who when asked why he’d said yes just tented his fingers and said “I wonder,” with a smile and Akira knew not to bother pressing him.

Akira still tastes blood but Amanome is looking at him expectantly, tapping his foot now.

“What?” Akira says crossly, and Amanome smirks at him.

**

Hazuki is still brushing ice from her hair when they bump into her in the entryway to the restaurant. Her hair is shorter now and her clothing incredibly subdued compared to what she used to wear, but black is still her color.

“Kijima!” she says, recognizing him and smiling immediately, more an idol’s smile than a friendly one. Hazuki hasn’t been an idol in years but she never lost her touch.

“Hey,” he says. He wants to ask what she wants and why tonight. Not that it matters. His only other options were Amanome, or sitting at Aunt Natsumi’s. She invites him every year, and she and Ami must miss him. He works too much, Aunt Natsumi teases. He doesn’t want to blow them off, but he was curious about Hazuki.

They take a bit to be seated, it being New Year’s and all, and both men have little to say to Hazuki until Amanome asks how the talent agency she manages at is handling one of its stars who was recently found in public, intoxicated and naked. Hazuki can’t help but take the bait, and Akira metaphorically puts his feet up as he knows he can’t stop them. It’s been like this for ten years and it’ll be like this until they die.

They’re still attacking and parrying each other when they sit down. Hazuki orders beer; the other two do not, neither drinking because Amanome lies that he’s allergic to alcohol when he’s really just a lightweight, and Akira hates anything that messes with his senses.

After the less-pointed small talk about what they’re doing now, how Ami is, and a round of “this economy, right?” they all look at each other like they expect someone else to drop a bomb.

There’s no reason the three of them stopped meeting up. Like many things in life it just happened, they were busy. Amanome was grinding it out to rise in the Family, Akira followed him because he had no other prospects after school, and Hazuki’s idol career died of natural causes so she pivoted into talent management. In the chaos of establishing themselves as adults, Akira counts himself lucky he still has his old friend. Hazuki and he would email in the passing years, usually her yammering about the occult, and once or twice he humored her and went on a ghost tour or explored a haunted place. They didn’t find any spirits, but one time they did find a homeless camp.

Her last message to him, before life pulled them in opposite directions, was a simple, “Nice job Ami!” with a link to an article about Ami’s high school science club when they went to a national competition.

He never remembered to respond. Ami scolded him for that once, as the two were still friends.

Hazuki spreads her hands, bearing a multitude of rings and an ankh bracelet. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here this evening,” she intones, her flair for drama never gone, Akira sees.

“I’m wondering why I came, yes,” Amanome says, his eyes fixed on her in amusement. When their waitress returns with the beer he switches faces and pleasantly as can be asks for some disgusting combination of sodas. He starts flirting with her and Akira tunes it out.

“What do you want?” Akira turns to Hazuki; giving Amanome attention when he’s like that just makes it worse.

Hazuki jumps into her topic: “Have you heard of the Missing Nine?”

“Who hasn’t?” It’s all over Tokyo, teenage boys throughout the city disappearing without a trace. There have been various rumors, ranging from a serial killer to deaths of despair from the crashing economy and diminishing educational prospects. It’s common enough that it’s making Akira glad he’s no longer a teenager.

It should be the Missing Ten, but one is no longer missing. The most recent missing boy was found dead in a construction site—a project of the Amanome Family, actually. It was a PR nightmare for them, and Akira remembers Amanome had to make a lot of vaguely threatening phone calls to get the police to drop their investigation into the Family’s involvement. He’s hyper-protective of the site as it’s His project. He’s too young in the eyes of some, but he’s starving for more responsibility, so his father has dropped it into his lap and told him to handle everything.

“If you’re about to say it’s occult crap, I’m leaving,” Amanome says flatly and Akira agrees though he just props his elbows on the table.

Hazuki lifts one shoulder. “I’m not saying it—yet. There’s something I thought you should know.”

Akira’s instincts are famous, everything in him jumps at her words, as if knowing he won’t like what he hears and he has to brace himself now.

“The victim, Tono Hiroaki, was allegedly found pierced all over with mirror shards.”

“Weird murder weapon, but has nothing to do with me,” Akira says evenly, though one hand curls into a fist underneath the table.

“And the night he was found, witnesses heard the sounds of a flute.”

There it is. Akira keeps his face apathetic but inside he feels like he’s just chugged icewater. His senses sharpen and hyperfocus on everything but Hazuki: the laughter of the next table over, the posters on the wall, the smell of grilled chicken passing by him.

Amanome’s laugh is a static hiss rising to real laughter. “Yeah, no, goodbye. Akira, stay here if you want but I’m done.” He gets up from the table and gathers his winter apparel off the back of his chair, wrapping his coat around his shoulders before properly putting it on in the weird way he does.

In reality, Akira is twenty-eight and more likely to get annoyed by something than frightened by it. He has never met a challenge he could not fight head-on.

In his mind, Akira is eighteen again and in the Realm of the Dead and absolutely helpless under Kakuya’s many limbs and eyes. She is immovable and powerful and she wants him.

“Buddy,” Amanome says again, his tone bossy, putting his hand on Akira’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to her.”

Hazuki is undeterred, and looks at Amanome as if she expected his resistance. “Fall, 2000,” Hazuki says, staring at Amanome. “It was an interesting time for you, right?”

“I’m busy, every day is interesting for me.”

“Really. Hey, did you take any pictures that year?”

Akira looks between them, knowing if this goes on they are all going to get kicked out, but he’s too wired to say anything to them.

Amanome’s face cracks the tiniest bit and his hand on Akira’s shoulder tenses. “Let’s stop this cute conversation,” he says. “Whatever you think you have on me, you don’t. Everyone thinks they have something on me, and everyone is wrong.”

Hazuki sips her beer. “I know exactly what I know. You know what I know. The only one who doesn’t know is ‘Akira.’” She says his given name in a lilting, mocking voice, but it’s not aimed at Akira.

Akira brushes Amanome’s hand off of him and sighs, “Don’t bring me into this.” He has no energy for them and their show.

“So,” Hazuki continues, “do you want him to find out tonight?”

Amanome takes a deep breath before saying, “Did you forget what I have?”

“You can’t ruin a career I don’t have anymore,” she says with such precision Akira is almost impressed. He does find it amusing when anyone takes Amanome by surprise. It happens so little. “So sit down.”

Amanome’s face twitches like he’s just seen a disgusting bug. He opens his mouth and whatever he does next will definitely get them kicked out, so Akira stands up, not unhappy to be going.

“Hazuki,” he says as he puts on his coat. “Call me when you want to talk about anything but this.”

“But—” She stands, but they’re already going.

Outside, the wind has picked up and carries their voices as they talk. Whatever Hazuki meant, it’s set Amanome off like a bomb, and he’s ranting halfway down the street: “Me? Me?! Does she even know— Does she—” He gesticulates in anger, graceless. “This is hilarious,” he says with no humor.

“What does she have on you?” Akira asks, curious.

“Nothing!”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Akira’s seen Amanome laugh in the faces of people threatening him with exposure or worse. He once ground his heel into the toe of a rising politician’s shoe. He isn’t afraid of his own father, the head of the Family.

Amanome’s gestures speed up before he stops still and loses his wit, letting out, “Shut up, Akira!” in frustration. The sleet, still coming down, lines his collar and only then does he realize he never opened his umbrella. He does so, and with a withering look holds it so he and Akira are both half under it. It’s a mere necessity, given the weather. They walk in the quiet, not true silence as Amanome is still muttering to himself.

After they pass the main drag and turn on to a quiet side street, a shortcut to the train station, Akira asks, “Do you think she...”

“No, whatever she says, no,” Amanome says, cutting Akira and that line of questioning off.

Akira squints against the precipitation. What little body heat he has is dissipating in the air, leaving him along with the sudden burst of adrenaline. He wonders if there’s still blood on the floor of the Family construction site. He hasn’t needed Bloodmetry in years. He doesn’t want to need it.

He tells himself he doesn’t have to know. The mirror from his old apartment is still wrapped in a cloth among his things; he pried it off the wall before he moved, not trusting it but not trusting himself enough to leave it behind. It’s been ten years.

It’s been ten years.

“Well, I guess we are putting in an appearance at my dad’s,” Amanome says.

“Nah, I’m going home,” Akira says, not in the mood for any revelry.

Amanome takes the umbrella back. “Killjoy.”

Outside the station, Akira stops still, looking at the lights and the people still gathering. It’s a little after nine, and he knows it’s lame to go home so early.

“I’m freezing,” Amanome complains, rubbing one hand over the other holding the umbrella handle. “Come on.”

“You would’ve seen the body, right?” Akira levels a stare at him. “Of course you would’ve.”

“It was weird, sure, but not Hazuki weird.” Amanome sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I would’ve told you if it was worth worrying about. But it’s not.”

Amanome is an amazing liar. Akira has seen him do it too many times to be impressed by it anymore—and he has seen it too often to not know Amanome’s one tell. He plays with his cuticles if he’s uncomfortable, and right now his hands are worrying each other, as if trying to dig through his gloves to get to his nails.

“Yeah,” Akira says unconvincingly. “You would.” Remembering something and glad to change the subject, he retrieves two postcards from inside his jacket. New Year’s cards. “This one is from Aunt Natsumi.” He hands them over and Amanome lets out a soft, ‘Oh,’ and withdraws his own cards.

“One for you and one for them,” he explains.

Akira reads his. “Mine just says, ‘Happy New Year.’ Creative.”

“Do you know how many of these I have to write?” Amanome shrugs. “If you want a love letter, call your girlfriend—oh wait, you don’t have one.”

“Rather be single than have your taste in women.”

Amanome waves and turns. “Bye, Akira. Come early tomorrow.”

“Fine. Seeya.”

After Amanome goes into the station, Akira stands outside for a moment longer. He sucks in a lungful of freezing air and tries to clear his head.

A girl laughs and he whirls, fists out, before seeing it’s just a young girl walking with her parents.

He needs some sleep.

But he does not go home.

“Oniichan!” Ami calls when she sees him come in and slip into house shoes. Ami takes his elbow, a gesture she’s the only one in the world allowed to do. Akira endures physical contact, he doesn’t like it, but when it’s Ami, well. Ami’s earned it. “Mom said you’d be with Seiji tonight.”

“He got boring,” Akira says, handing her Amanome’s postcard. Akira sent his own in the mail before the deadline. He can’t help but notice Amanome wrote a much more personal message to Ami and Aunt Natsumi, not that he cares.

He’s grown and Ami has grown but little has changed in this space, or between them. Aunt Natsumi, and Ami when she’s home on breaks, still live in the same place, small but homey. Hell, they even still have the Black Rabbit, which he’s sure is doing decent business tonight. Aunt Natsumi finally broke down and hired a bar manager years ago. Ami explains that that’s where her mom is tonight, got pulled away at the last minute.

Akira lets Ami force him to watch a New Year’s countdown special. It has more idols and talent than he ever cares to see, but the comedians make him exhale out of his nose once or twice. After pleading eyes, he rummages through their kitchen and starts making Ami a late dinner. He asks some questions about university and, yes, she’s still studying something scientific he doesn’t understand and she mentions a few names he won’t remember in the morning. She has a whole new revolving cast in her life and he remembers when she was still just the little girl who liked to hang out with her brother more than anything.

He burns dinner, swears, and Ami appears at his elbow again.

“Akira?”

“Goddamn it.”

“What’s wrong?” Ami is looking at him with eyes that have finally grown in proportion to her face, no longer big and needing protection. She’s never lost her admiration for him. Seeing he isn’t going to give up his big secret, she tries again with an, “Oniichan.”

“Don’t ‘oniichan’ me.”

“Tell me!”

Akira doesn’t know when he became so easy to read. Maybe because it’s Ami, maybe because he’s exhausted and has let his guard down.

He and Ami have never discussed the NG Days, not since they happened. Ami didn’t like using his shower after the fact, but they didn’t have to acknowledge that. He remembers once she crawled into his bed with a plaintive ‘Oniichan,’ and they compromised by sleeping beside each other on the floor.

“I’m fine. If you don’t leave me alone I’m gonna make you eat this crap,” he says, gesturing to the burned food.

“If something was wrong I would tell _you_ ,” she says but drops it. They watch TV the rest of the night and at midnight Ami is already asleep. Akira trades a few emails with Amanome about work and how the Family party sucks. He gets one from Hazuki that he doesn’t open. 

Spreading out the spare futon on the living room floor, he has a sense memory of doing this when he was sixteen; he’d just come here from Mom’s funeral and the first thing he did was lay down like this and sleep for ten hours. He wasn’t sad, just tired from sleeping by a hospital bed and tired of being told people were sorry for him.

Tonight he can’t sleep.

Ami is quiet in her room, so he creeps up and goes to the entryway, finding two purses. There are two women in this house; somebody has a hand mirror. He has to dig through Ami’s to find a purple one, smooth clamshell, and it’s heavy in his hand.

He’s out of his mind, he thinks as he opens the bathroom door, flipping the compact open. If joining two mirrors makes a spirit road, maybe they can also allow him to see inside the mirror to its world…

Nothing happens at first, except for his breathing growing labored as he stands there, mirrors facing each other, him peeking at each one occasionally. It’s dark in there, and he’s about to give up when a single purple flicker lights up the mirror.

Akira leans forward and holds his breath as the mirror starts to glow.

In the middle distance in the window to the Realm of the Dead, he sees a figure, too small to determine what it is until he focuses and sees the outline of six limbs and a tall body. He fights to keep the mirrors open as he feels his dread grow, but when the shadow shifts and he thinks about what he’s doing, he slams the hand mirror shut and hopes that that wasn’t enough to bring Her over. The mirror ripples and waves and he takes a step backwards, wondering if he has enough time to wake up Ami and evacuate her when the mirror stills and the glow fades.

The bathroom door opens. 

“Oniichan?” Ami says, smoothing her hair back into place, “What were you doing?”

“Uh…” he says, considering the mirrors once more.

Ami is sharp. She _did_ help him defeat Kakuya. “Kakuya is gone, isn’t she?”

“She’s in the Realm of the Dead, yeah.”

“But is she ‘gone?’”

“I don’t know,” Akira says, considering Ami. She’s standing there, trusting him to assuage her fears. But Ami’s not dumb, and he won’t lie to her.

They go into the living room, and he tells her about his night, not stopping or answering questions until he’s done. He rolls his shoulders. “So yeah. Kakuya might be here again. It’s been ten years. Makes sense.” He is short of breath now.

Ami plays with her hands before turning on the overhead light. “Come on,” she says. “We’re going for a walk.”

“It’s freezing outside.”

“Well I’m not going to wait around here.” Ami shakes her umbrella out and looks at him insistently, like he can’t argue. “Let’s go. You’ll feel better.”

“I feel fine,” Akira says as he goes for his shoes.

It’s 2am and the world is hushed. It’s still sleeting, though it’s lightening and turning to a finer snow. Akira’s boots have a hole in the heel and he feels his sock getting wet. He holds the umbrella over himself and Ami.

“Who can you call?” Ami asks, looking up at him. “Somebody can help you, right? You can do the NG ritual again.”

“I know, I’ll just get my hands on a doll,” he says. It’s easy, he thinks. _He_ hasn’t lost the power to bestow as far as he knows. “Then it’s over.” For ten more years. And then what? Is he going to be an old man still doing this? Is it his responsibility to have a son and teach him to do it? He’s spent the last ten years living his life, not worrying about goddamn spirits. He doesn’t even know where half the people from the NG Days are now. 

Akira kicks up the rapidly rising snow, his hand fisting around the umbrella.

Ami, perceptive as ever, knows what he’s thinking. “Oniichan, you have to do it.”

“I know,” he says, voice stern.

“But you don’t have to do it alone.” She reaches over and pats his arm, holding on to his wrist for a moment before releasing him.

They’ve come to a train crossing that splits the quiet residential neighborhood in two, the gates are up just like they were during his confrontation with Kubitarou. Ami looks both ways like she used to do before they crossed the tracks, and then heads off ahead of him. Watching her grow smaller in his vision, he thinks that Ami at least will be protected if he does his job. Even if it’s for the rest of his life.

“Akira?” she says when she turns and sees he isn’t following.

“Chill out, I’m coming,” he calls, hurrying after her.


	2. Chapter 2

Akira is the last to wake up; he's surprised he slept so deeply with everything on his mind. It’s still early enough that he has time to spare for breakfast, which is good as he never actually ate last night. Aunt Natsumi is the only one in the kitchen, making eggs.

"Good morning," she says. 

"Morning."

"Where have you been?" she teases.

"I'm still around." 

Aunt Natsumi knows he’s Yakuza; it wasn't sustainable to hide it after a while. She doesn't judge him although she wishes he'd picked a safer line of work. She always offers to bring him food, or she texts him to be careful riding in the rain. She can’t stop being a mom.

He searches the fridge for miso and begins making soup alongside her. They don’t have to speak. It reminds him of the earliest days with her and Ami when he had little to say, too lost in the chaos that was his life. Aunt Natsumi was always patient, even when he was an absolute asshole.

“Morning Mom, oniichan,” Ami says as she emerges from the back room, fiddling with her long ponytail. She sparks a conversation about how New Year’s was at the bar, and it carries them through breakfast.

It’s a normal day in a life that’s simply not normal anymore.

“Right, I’m leaving,” Akira announces after he’s cleared the dishes away. He’s always just passing through.

“Be careful,” Aunt Natsumi says with a smile.

When he leaves, Ami follows him out the front door, tapping his shoulder. “Akira.”

“Huh?”

“If you need anything at all...”

“I won’t,” he says, and then thinks better of it. “I mean I’ll be fine.”

Ami doesn’t look like she believes him.

**

Going to the Family office always reminds him of being eighteen and living alone at Hanasaki Apartments. When Akira enters, he nods politely to the superiors and makes a beeline for Amanome, seated on a couch in the center of the room. A subordinate is pouring him tea with one hand and setting down a small plate of fruit with the other.

Amanome has already forgotten the incident, or at least he’s determined not to worry about it. When Akira is by his side, Amanome’s on his phone, polite but Akira can tell from his word choice that he’s getting annoyed with whoever’s on the other end of the line. When he hangs up he rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, his unspoken sign that the other party is a moron. He braces his heel against the coffee table and leans back against the couch. Akira remains standing, awaiting marching orders.

“Why is it so hard for builders to show up on time?” he asks the air, not expecting an answer. He is so dramatic before 8am. Finally acknowledging Akira, he says, “Hey, buddy.”

“What’s up?” Their jobs are varied, though this construction project takes up a lot of their time now. They’re past the days of running little drop-off errands, although Akira is still handy for shaking people down. The higher Amanome goes the more Akira has to sit still and look intimidating without actually doing anything, and when he’s in the office he’s itchy and impatient. But he’s not a teenager anymore, and he can’t punch anyone who looks at him wrong or glower off to the side. He’s worn a suit, he’s bitten through his tongue keeping quiet, and he’s done things he’s not proud of.

“We’re walking the site today,” Amanome says and Akira nods. It’s as good a plan for the day as any. Better than watching the other push around the subordinates. “And there’s a little problem.” He puts a hand under his chin. “Just another stray dog to deal with.”

A dog is their code for dirty cop, someone who works with the Family usually in exchange for money or privileges. Sometimes they get too entitled and have to be put back in their place. Akira doesn’t really care about the specifics. He knows his role in dealing with this. He’s been in this job for too long, but where else is he going to go?

Honestly, looking at Amanome, seemingly carefree, bugs him this morning. Outside the world is gray and Akira feels the same.

Amanome stands and gestures for Akira to follow him outside.

“You didn’t bring your bike?” Amanome says when he doesn’t see it parked in the alley beside the office.

“No, don’t have time to fix it.” It craps out at least every two months and he’s still saving for a new one. Akira misses his old bike but someone smashed into it in a hit-and-run accident. His current one isn’t the same. He doesn’t like to ride in the snow anyway when a train will do. “Too busy doing crap for you.”

Amanome adjusts his gloves and makes a dismissive noise. “It’s your _job_.”

“I need a new boss.”

They keep tossing jokes all the way to the site. The site is also the former Hanasaki Apartment building; Akira always feels odd standing in the hollow shell of what used to be home. On the surface, it’s going to be an office park, and Amanome has big plans for the underground level. The pressure he’s putting on himself to prove that he was the right choice to lead this project is great. Akira thinks it’s pointless because Amanome’s dad already does grant him special privileges, but Amanome says it’s different now that he’s officially part of the Family. (“We can’t all punch people who doubt us, like you do,” was what he said. “We can’t all blackmail people who do, either,” Akira had replied.)

Inspecting the site, Akira would never know a dead body was discovered here. Whatever blood there might’ve been was quickly cleaned and covered up; he couldn’t find it even if he wanted to.

His eyes glaze over as Amanome talks to the foreman. He’s focusing on a point in the middle distance, and that’s when he notices it: a mirror shard that was missed during the cleanup. A dark brown film is on it, maybe dark and thick enough to…

He tries to leave it alone, tries to listen to the conversation, but it’s all useless. He just can’t help himself.

With a last look at Amanome, he creeps away from their talk and stoops down to grab the mirror shard carefully. The jagged edge presses against his gloved fingers like a threat. He takes a deep breath and braces himself before touching it with his right hand.

_He sees through eyes that aren’t his own, peering around the darkened site. It’s nighttime and he’s standing in the skeleton of a room. It’s so dark he can barely make out the framing. He staggers as he takes a step forward. His entire body is exhausted._

_“Guys?” Tono’s voice calls. “Anyone? Help me!” Creeping dread fills his voice. He can’t be older than fifteen. Nobody is coming for him, though, so he moves again. His foot bumps into something and then he senses a presence behind him._

_A girl’s voice says,_ ”Why did you touch that?”

_“Oh thank God, help me, I don’t know what’s going on--” Tono cries in a strained voice, clutching his chest as he turns, only to see empty air._

”That’s...his...give it back…”

_“What?” he says._

_A shattering sound louder than a gunshot, and then something heavy and sharp pain rips his back open. Looking down, he sees a cleanly broken shard of glass sticking out of his stomach. He’s been pierced clean through._

_And then comes the pain._

It’s been too long since Akira’s done this. When the vision ends, his left hand is clutching his stomach and he drops the shard, its surface cracking. He feels a dull pain there, and rubs his abdomen before hearing,

“Hey, Akira. You okay?” Amanome is looking at him like he knows exactly what he’s just done, and like he’s a mix between disappointed and concerned.

It takes Akira a moment to answer, “Fine. Go back to work,” before he stands and leans against the wall with an affected calm. He swallows the lump in his throat. His heart is racing. He’s seen rougher shit, but Tono was just a kid, and his last moments were brutal.

Amanome and the foreman have come to the end of their conversation, and with a, “Well just get it done,” Amanome leaves the foreman to his work. He approaches Akira and tilts his head to indicate he wants them to step outside. Outside, the cold embraces them and Akira welcomes it as it drives every other thought out of his head.

Amanome stands, hands shoved in his pockets, and just looks at him for a long moment.

“What?”

“Let’s go to the family restaurant down the street,” Amanome offers.

“I’m not hungry and it’s 9am.”

“Maybe I didn’t eat breakfast, huh? Don’t be self-centered,” Amanome says with no humor, before walking away.

“You were literally just eating fruit,” Akira calls after him, but he doesn’t stop. 

So they end up there, quiet over food they aren’t eating, until Amanome says, “Well, tell me about it.”

Akira does, and when he’s done Amanome’s face has briefly twitched into his ‘God, why spirits,’ expression. “You didn’t _see_ Kakuya,” he points out. “You don’t know that it has anything to do with her.”

“Right, but…” He has to stop to take a breath; there are maybe two people in the world he can show this kind of anxiety in front of. Akira plays with his silverware. He needs to slow down and think here; he can’t act on emotion. “You saw the body. You swear you didn’t see or hear anything related to her?”

“I swear. You’re so paranoid,” Amanome says with a strained expression. “But now I have to worry about my building being haunted.”

Akira scoffs. “Thanks.”

“I mean it, we’re going to have to deal with that if that’s what’s happening.” Amanome sighs. “Well. We did it before. I’ll follow you again, if we have to.”

He’s staring down another possible gauntlet of spirits, and so close to Kakuya’s seal weakening. Better nip this in the bud. He forces himself to take a bite of his food but he can barely swallow it. “How much time do we have before the meeting? We got time to find a department store?”

At the store, he buys the first doll he sees on the shelf, reminded uncomfortably of handing the Demon Tsukuyomi a similar doll once, in his other life. If Kakuya accepted dolls made out of little girls, she probably won’t complain about the latest generation of Jennifer dolls.

“My place, tonight,” he says as they’re checking out.

“When are we apart?” Amanome asks.

**

“Follow me,” Amanome says again, beckoning to Akira as if he means to literally follow. He’s making his pitch to join the Yakuza for the millionth time. They’re still just eighteen, but the time will be here before they know it for Amanome to head into the next phase of his life, and he doesn’t want to go alone.

“No,” Akira says as he drags the cover over his bike. Joining the Yakuza isn’t in his post-grad plans; he’s fine with fighting in the UG Match and he’s even fine with protecting Amanome, but he can’t be happy in the Family.

They’re outside Hanasaki Apartments, the unseasonably warm September weather making it muggy. Akira wants a shower and for this conversation to be over. Amanome just won’t drop it ever since it clicked that graduation is coming up.

Amanome positions himself so he’s between Akira and the stairs. “Are you really going to be happy as a contract worker for the rest of your life, never moving up because you didn’t even bother to go to university?”

“At least I’ll be making my own way in the world, not getting special privileges because you’re my best friend.”

Amanome smirks. “Oh, I can make joining the Family as hard for you as you like. I’ve been putting in the time. You haven’t.” Amanome puts a hand on Akira’s shoulder. “ _You_ are not normal. _We_ are not ordinary people. I was just born into the Yakuza, but you were meant for it.”

Akira brushes Amanome aside, going up the stairs to his apartment. “Stop asking me this,” he says over his shoulder, leaving Amanome standing there with a disappointed expression.

**

Akira has to wipe off a thick layer of dust before the mirror is visible again. He pulled it out of storage with a heavy feeling, reluctant. It’s just a normal mirror. It shouldn’t bother him. He props it up against his bed. He doesn’t know why he invited Amanome after all. He can do this alone.

He just doesn’t want to.

After 8pm the knocks on his door begin, short raps. Amanome’s brought one of his disgusting drinks, garlic kombucha, as if sure this will take no time at all and they can go back to normal life. If he’s scared, he’s determined not to show it. 

Akira sets up the desk mirror he bought at the dollar store down the street across from the old bathroom mirror, feeling no different than usual as the spirit road opens. He inhales and feels his own spiritual energy rising; he became more sensitive to it over time.

The mirror turns purple and fills with fog. If he squints, he can barely see what might be Kakuya. She doesn’t come any closer, though; that might be the seal still in effect. Maybe the ten year mark has to occur right at summer. She’s stuck and when he takes a deep breath and throws the doll in he doesn’t see her take it. Now she has no choice though, he sure as hell isn’t offering himself.

Amanome says, “Is that really it?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“Huh, that’s—”

The mirror fills with a larger shape, dark and muddled, and reflexively he shoves Amanome backwards so hard he falls.

A limb, writhing and unnaturally boneless, erupts from the mirror and before Akira can perceive it coming for him he feels a pressure around his neck, squeezing so hard he hears his bones crack. He wraps both hands around the limb, which is less of a human limb and more of a tentacle, and pulls with all his strength, but his strength has never been a match for spirits. Black spots fill his vision and he can’t even gasp for air anymore, he feels himself being dragged forward.

A hard thud as something comes in contact with the limb, and then again. As if in surprise, the limb weakens and Akira is able to extricate himself with a _hard_ pull and groan, and once free kicks outward, knocking it back further. Hot blood sprays across the floor, sizzling where it touches the carpet. Behind him he hears the second mirror shatter, and with a ripple across the bathroom mirror, the limb gets sucked back in.

He takes a long moment to catch his breath, and then looks up at Amanome, who is standing with a kitchen knife in hand, actual terror on his features.

“You tried to stab it?” Akira asks in disbelief.

“I did stab it,” he points out. “Is that my thanks for saving your life?”

Akira gulps in another deep breath. He suddenly can’t get enough of oxygen. “What was that?”

“Not Kakuya.”

The shattered mirror didn’t scatter any glass, and as he’s moving it only then does Akira notice something: “You’re bleeding.”

Amanome considers the side of his hand and makes a face. He steals Akira’s dish towel and wraps it around his hand before Akira can protest. “Must have happened when I broke the mirror.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s more like it.”

“Let me make sure there’s no glass in that.” Akira says, getting up and going to his bathroom. He retrieves his first-aid kit and cleans and disinfects Amanome’s hand before wrapping it up. Turning, he spies the bloodstains on the carpet. “Hm…”

“Have at it. Nothing happens if I do it.”

Akira bends down and puts his right hand to the stain without pausing.

_He’s first aware of a long, flexible limb wrapping itself around something, before his vision clears and he realizes it’s the shoulders of what looks to be a young girl. She’s distorted and wrong, but he doesn’t recognize it as Kakuya. Her hair is black and wild. The monster gently strokes the top of her head before withdrawing. The monster is filled with the buzzing static of anger and violence; it only wants to fight its most recent opponent—Akira—and win._

__

__

_The young girl clings to what would be the monster’s waist._

His vision clears and he’s left as frustrated as when he started. Akira describes what he saw and then gently puts his fist to the floor. “There’s something…”

“What?”

“Normally, I don’t feel what they feel. It’s like I’m just watching them.” So what was that?

“Hold on.” Amanome steps outside to make a call. When he returns, he says, “We’re taking your bike this time. Where we’re going is a little out of the way.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

**

The bar is equidistant between Akira’s place and Hazuki’s agency. Hazuki gracefully doesn’t acknowledge the note on which they left things last night. She says, “I left my girl at the agency for this, so sorry but we have to make it quick.”

Akira cracks his knuckles in an effort to release some tension. Once inside the bar, they explain everything.

Hazuki leans forward with both hands on the table. She’s obviously fascinated, just like back then. “So you completed the Nagoshi no Gi?”

“I think so.”

“Then what other spirit attacked you?”

“I don’t know, I only saw its arm.”

“But you used Bloodmetry.”

“And I still don’t know.”

Amanome looks between them. “It could be acting as an intermediary for Kakuya.”

“It didn’t feel like that though, in my vision. It was obsessed with me, but not like she was.”

Hazuki thinks about what she’s going to say next, and then smiles as she stirs her drink. “I did miss these sessions. Theorizing late at night, sneaking out, lives on the line.”

“ _My_ life on the line,” Akira says, frowning.

“Who helped you exorcise the Urashima Woman?”

“And who did the other four?” What a time that was.

Hazuki purses her lips but she can’t argue with that. “So you need ideas of what to do next.” Hazuki goes into her purse and shuffles through it for her phone. She dials a number and, tapping her nails on the tabletop, explains the situation to the person on the other end of the line, despite Akira and Amanome’s protestations. When she hangs up with a polite, “Thank you,” she nods. “He’s available tomorrow.”

**

Having agreed to meet Hazuki’s mystery source tomorrow, the two head off. Amanome asks to be dropped off at the office, although with a detour. Akira knows exactly where they’re going, though he doesn’t know why as they pull up to the shrine. It’s tiny, more of an alley with a shrine than anything, but they step through the gates and he embraces the stillness. Amanome offers coins to the offering box; Akira has to dig in his pocket to find some but he figures it can’t hurt. They stand in silence for a while, heads bowed. Akira has an inkling of why they’re here, and says his prayers.

“We need all the help we can get,” Amanome says to the night air. “If we’re going to find the mirror spirit.”

“You don’t have to come,” Akira says, hands in his pockets, feeling the cold through his gloves. “I can handle this.”

“Akira,” he says with a hint of sternness. The ‘Remember, I am your boss,’ tone. “I’m coming with you.”

Akira looks down at his fist. “Thanks.”

Amanome continues, “You remember when I sprained my ankle on that school trip and you carried me?”

“I guess.”

“It’s like that.”

“This is more than a sprained ankle.”

Amanome smiles. “You carry me, I carry you.”

Akira drops him off at the office and with a quick goodbye he’s finally on his way home. At home, the mirror has been tightly wrapped up again and put away for now. He showers, feeling disgusting and tired, and collapses into bed. He does not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Have spirit shenanigans.


	3. Chapter 3

Akira wakes because his throat is squeezing itself shut. Eyes still shut, he struggles to breathe, clutches at his throat, and tears at the blanket to free himself. When he throws himself upright and opens his eyes, nobody is there and his heart is pounding. He gulps, still holding his throat. The encounter with the arm spirit was yesterday, but he feels it anew while sitting in the early morning darkness, alone. 

After using the bathroom and splashing water on his face, he checks his phone, a habit from years of working for Amanome, who expects everyone to jump when he says so. Amanome has blown up his phone, starting around 3am. Listening to his voicemails, Akira gets some demands to show up at the site as soon as he’s awake. He hurries to get dressed and on the road, taking his bike even though there’s still slush on the ground and he’s not one hundred-percent sure it will run.

Amanome is waiting outside, shivering, when he arrives. “It took you long enough.”

“Some of us sleep, geez.” Akira swings his leg over the seat and cracks his neck, still stiff from sleeping on it wrong. “What’s so important?”

Amanome lowers his voice. “We found another body here this morning.”

“Still…?” How the hell do these people keep getting past the Family’s security? Amanome has some disciplining to do, Akira thinks.

“Yes. I wanted you to use Bloodmetry on the stains left behind to try and find out what happened here.”

He can do that no problem. “Is the body still here?”

“No, I got rid of that a long time ago. Don’t need any more police sniffing around here.” Amanome procures his burner phone and slides it open, then shows Akira some images.

Yep. That’s definitely the dead body of a man, pierced all over with mirror shards, some huge and some smaller. The blood is pooling around him and a flashlight, also smeared with blood, is by his side, just out of reach of his hand. It doesn’t look like an easy death; Akira thinks he must’ve bled out if no shards punctured his internal organs, which doesn’t seem likely. The mirror must’ve sliced every major artery in his body.

“Did you find the body?”

“I was one of the first, yes.”

“Did you hear a flute?”

“No. Not a sound.” Amanome shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “That’s the truth.” His hands stay in his pockets this time.

They head inside and the stain is on the second floor, which is a mess of half-drywall half-framing and dangling electrical cords. Akira has no idea what drives people to sneak in here at night. The bloodstain is huge and obvious despite someone’s attempts to clean it off the concrete, if an abandoned pressure washer is any indication. Without a word he kneels down and touches it.

_The man’s flashlight suddenly dies, and he smacks it in the palm of his hand. It turns back on and a little girl stands in the beam. She’s flickering and warped, face obscured like a foggy mirror. The man’s breathing grows heavier before he says, excited, “It’s you!”_

“This...oniichan’s…” _the spirit says in a voice like the wind rushing through reeds. The room grows colder than the winter weather and the world itself twists._

In reality, Akira holds his breath.

_His bed is the same, jammed up against the closet so it never opened right. The table in its place. The walls the same color and a draft from the open kitchen window._

_It’s his old apartment._

_“Wow,” the man says in awe. “You really are—”_

“Not him,” _the spirit says, betrayal creeping into her voice._ “Go away.”

_Once again comes a shattering sound, and then agony and shock._

Akira takes a big gasp when he comes out of the vision, and behind him Amanome says, “Anything?”

“Outside,” Akira says, shaking his head. “It’s a spirit,” he says once they’re out. “A little girl. She talks about her brother and then kills them with the mirrors.”

“Why me?” Amanome says, running a hand through his hair.

“Why them?” Akira replies. “It wasn’t Kakuya.” The rumors are just that.

“Can we get rid of it? It’s a matter of time before this becomes a bigger problem for me.”

Really, only Amanome would say this shit. “I guess so, but first I need to figure out who she is and where her grudge comes from.” Akira guesses he’s not getting any sleep tonight.

“Well. That’s your new job. Forget everything else on your plate.” Amanome looks harried. “I’m gonna be cleaning this up forever. My dad’s already called me four times this morning. Go ahead with Hazuki without me.”

Akira nods. Before he leaves, Amanome hands him a wallet.

“It was the victim’s. Maybe it’s got a clue?”

There’s a bloodstain on this, too, but Akira decides to wait to read it again. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

With that, Akira leaves.

**

Akira and Hazuki meet up first, and then they’re on their way to their meeting. Before he starts his bike, Akira asks, “Who is this guy?”

“Just a friend I’ve made along the way. He’s spent his life studying the occult; he’s been something of a mentor to me.”

Akira shakes his head and guns it.

They arrive at a cafe near a train station, where a sullen-looking middle-aged man is waiting for them. It turns out, Akira’s met this guy before. He came around asking questions about Akira’s involvement in Kakuya’s Game, and then he disappeared when Akira told him to get lost. His name was...Shiki something. Yashiki. He offers his hand when they meet but Akira doesn’t take it, so instead he gives a slight bow. Akira nods his head.

They keep their voices down and Akira explains the past two days and Yashiki rests his chin on his hands. He’s an older guy now, but still has an intense look about him. “Are you getting involved?” he finally asks.

“I have no choice, it’s haunting my best friend’s building. I just wish I knew her name.”

“I’ve never heard of this spirit,” Yashiki intones, but not in a disbelieving way. “But children can become spirits just like adults.”

‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Akira thinks. “I have this…” He pulls out the wallet and opens it up, finding a credit card, an ID for Orimoto Takeshi, and a business card-sized object that includes a website address and a stylized ghost.

“That looks like a ripoff of Momocci,” Hazuki says disapprovingly.

“It’s an occult message board. I’ve been there myself,” Yashiki says. “May I?” When Akira nods, he takes the card and pulls his phone out. He types in the address and when it finally loads, he scans the boards. “Ah, this might be something. ‘Hunting for the Mirror Princess.’”

“Let me see that,” Akira says, already taking the phone. He and Hazuki lean over it to read. The description of the Mirror Princess doesn’t describe what Akira saw, but the description of her actions does. “Looking for her brother. That might be her grudge.”

“It’s likely.” Yashiki looks down into his drink. “Another thing: If someone can describe her actions, then that means somebody must have survived her. If we find that person, we might be able to learn more about her.” He makes eye contact with Akira. “Spirits are often tied to a location connected to their grudge. What was the construction site before?”

“An apartment building, but it was only for people living alone. I lived there, so I’d know.”

Yashiki thinks, stroking his facial hair. “Maybe a child who died in an accident? A child who was brought there by force and murdered?”

“I would remember something like that,” Akira says, feeling cross at the mystery. Remembering one key detail, Akira says, “It was my apartment that I saw. I’m sure of it.”

“Really?” Hazuki says.

“Yeah.”

Yashiki breaks eye contact then, shuffling his napkin around the table, wiping up invisible stains. “Kijima, I don’t mean to open old wounds, but...by chance did you have a younger sister back then?”

“Still got her. She’s alive and goes to university in another ward.”

Yashiki frowns. “It’s always one puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.”

“I think there might’ve been another young guy living there around the same time I was.” Akira thinks. “Maybe.”

“I think for right now we should consider it as a possibility, but focus on this message board,” Hazuki interrupts. “If we can find the original poster, we might have somebody with more information about the spirit.”

Akira, not up to date on technology at all, says, “Well how do we do that? Isn’t the point of the Internet that it’s anonymous?”

“There’s always a way,” Yashiki says. “I may know someone who could help us. Give me some time is all.”

“Well, hurry up,” Akira says. “It’s my life on the line when I exorcise this thing.”

“If you’re serious about this, then at least let me assist you. I’ve studied spirits since you were young,” Yashiki says, apparently not aware of how condescending he sounds.

“And I’ve fought spirits since I was a kid,” Akira says.

“I think that’s a kind offer, Yashiki,” Hazuki says. “We’ll accept it.”

“Hey!”

“Do you have any ideas on how to find this person?” she retorts, and with some embarrassment Akira shifts his body away from her.

Then it’s settled.

“One more thing,” Yashiki says when they’re standing on the sidewalk outside. “Consider the fact that both the Mirror Princess and the arm spirit appeared in places connected to you. Be careful. I know a thing or two about being targeted by spirits.”

“I’m not worried,” Akira says.

“Suit yourself,” Yashiki says.

**

“Shouldn’t you go back to the agency?” Akira says before he fires up his bike.

Hazuki tightens her arms around his chest. “Yes. This is more interesting.”

“I can’t believe you still care about this crap.”

“I didn’t always. I guess it’s just something about you. Do you want to go back to work?”

“Amanome said this is my job for now, but we’re stuck until we find an answer for who this mystery poster is.”

“Black Rabbit?”

“As good a place as any.”

Aunt Natsumi has never changed the locks, so his key still works. The lights are off, so she must be working on a novel today at home. The manager hasn’t come in yet to start opening. Akira flips the lights on while Hazuki makes herself comfortable at the bar.

“Don’t drink anything,” Akira says.

Hazuki laughs. “Don’t you think you could use one?”

She pulls a PDA out of her bag and they get to work. They start by looking up any crimes involving young girls in the past ten years; there are a depressing amount, but none related to Hanasaki. The list of them in Shinza are few but easily ruled out; most of the girls are too old, teenagers. The only one who might work was an only child, according to her family registry. Still, ‘oniichan,’ can refer to any older boy or man, Akira thinks. Maybe it was someone else in her life.

“Ugghhh,” he grunts. “This will take forever.”

“Don’t give up,” Hazuki says. “Yashiki might have found something.”

“Right.” Akira has a headache.

And then he doesn’t, as the world flashes and becomes too bright.

His vision clears and he holds his head still. He just sees flashes now: Hazuki in bloody water, turtles pouring out of her mouth; Amanome’s severed head with a mockery of a dumpling tree jammed into it; Ban flailing against the Screaming Author; Rosé impaled. All dead. His head is heavy, fuzzy now, and he feels like this is too real to be fake. “Guh…”

“Kijima?”

He clutches his head tighter. He cannot feel his right arm, like it’s no longer a part of his body.

Then everything stops. And goes black.

**

When Akira wakes up, he’s staring at a white ceiling. It takes him a moment to register a monitor is beeping, and when he turns his head he sees a hospital curtain.

“Oniichan?” Ami is sitting in a chair beside his bed, playing with her phone.

“Ami?”

“Kaoru had an emergency at work, so she called me to stay with you.”

“What happened?”

“You passed out and hit your head at the Black Rabbit. Kaoru called an ambulance.”

Great, another thing he can’t afford. Akira rubs his temple. “Get me out of here.”

“I knew you’d say that. Not until the doctors sign off.” Ami crosses her ankles. Her bangs are damp. Maybe it’s snowing heavier outside.

“Ugh. I have work to do.”

“You’re always working,” Ami says, disappointed. With a glance at the door, she says, “Is it Kakuya?”

“No, we don’t...we don’t think Kakuya is involved anymore. It’s another spirit.” Akira explains everything he’s been through so far and Ami listens attentively before interrupting him.

“So you’re going after this spirit?”

“Well, yeah.” He doesn’t know when it became a certainty, just that he accepted the responsibility as it always seems to fall to him. “Amanome needs my help, and everyone else is going to such trouble to help me…”

Ami sits up straighter in her chair. He recognizes and fears the look on her face. “I want to help you.”

“No.”

“Come on, I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I don’t want you involved.”

“But—”

“I don’t want your help, Ami!” Ami has the entire world in front of her, and Ami did her time facing spirits. She doesn’t belong in this world anymore as surely as she doesn’t belong in his Yakuza world.

Ami looks down at her lap. “You are such a jerk,” she says quietly.

Akira wastes the rest of his day in the hospital, fielding emails from Amanome and Hazuki. Amanome is less than thrilled to hear that he’s laid up; Hazuki says she’s glad he’s okay. When he finally gets out it’s dark outside and he follows Ami to the Black Rabbit, where his bike is. It’s also where his friends are waiting, Amanome and Aunt Natsumi chatting like old times. Ami has been quiet since their argument and she proceeds to go behind the bar to the back room when they arrive.

“Excuse me,” Amanome says and gestures for Akira to step away. Outside, it’s dark and cold and Akira can barely make out his breath freezing in the light from the bar.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

Amanome presses his back to the wall. “Dad’s angry.”

“You never worry about your old man.”

“I’m not, I’m just wondering how this will make me look.”

“I’ll handle it,” Akira says, folding his arms and pressing one shoulder to the wall. His head hurts.

“I know you will.”

“Don’t say it with that tone.”

“What?”

“Like you’re my boss.”

“I _am_ your boss.”

“Not outside of work.”

“So sensitive.”

Akira slugs his shoulder. “Just let me tell you what I saw.” He does, and Amanome nods throughout it with a faraway expression. “Yashiki is still trying to figure out who the poster is. Until then, post more security at the site.” The occult freaks were getting in at a rapid pace, all running to their deaths in hopes of sighting a spirit. Akira feels as bad for them as he is frustrated with them.

“Already done.” Amanome shrugs. “I picked some people who are already on thin ice. Is that bad?” he asks with a familiar mischievous glitter in his eyes. Amanome does not give a damn if it’s bad.

Looking at him, Akira feels the word slip sideways again. Amanome’s smile gets too big, his skin darkens, his mouth is full of long, sharp teeth. He’s a threat, Akira’s instincts scream, and without thinking he throws a punch hard enough to know Amanome back against the wall. Just as quickly it’s gone. Amanome is normal again, and pissed.

“What’s wrong with you?” he gasps.

Akira wishes he knew.

“What am I missing?” Hazuki says as she emerges from the bar, chin tucked into her scarf.

“He’s lost his mind,” Amanome says, pointing at Akira.

“Sorry, sorry…” Akira tilts his head. “You were just so different.”

“I’m still me, idiot!”

Hazuki looks between them. “Are you two done?”

“I guess,” Akira says. They’re never done.

“What are you doing here?” Amanome asks. “Have you come to blackmail Akira?”

“What‘s going on between you two, anyway?” Akira asks, but neither answers Akira. They continue looking at each other, conspiratory and challenging all at once.

“I’m here to support him.” Hazuki shrugs. “And because this is fascinating. I missed it.”

“Glad I can entertain you.”

“You do,” she says in a chipper tone. “When Yashiki replies, I’ll tell you.”

“Thanks, Hazuki.”

“Y’know, it’s been ten years. You can call me Kaoru.”

Akira gestures to Amanome. “I don’t even call _him_ his first name.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do if he did,” Amanome agrees.

“Calm down, lovebirds, it was a suggestion.” She changes the subject. “What do we do about the arm spirit?”

Akira presses his head against the brick wall, holding up a hand for quiet while he waits for it to stop hurting. “If it wants to attack me, we plan to attack it first. It’ll come out eventually if it really wants to. So we just have to learn more about it.”

“Should we open up the spirit road again?”

“So it can kill us?” Amanome says.

“We’ll fight,” Akira says, hard. “And we’ll win.”

For the first time, the two look at him like they believe him. They say their goodbyes, Amanome with an order to show up early again so get some sleep. Akira heads back inside and makes some small talk with Aunt Natsumi before finally heading home.

“Akira,” Ami calls from behind the bar, her arms folded, but all she does is stare him down until he turns to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yashiki being more internet-savvy than akira amuses me


	4. Chapter 4

Amanome finds him after the graduation ceremony, while the rest of the school is one mass of bodies cheering, hugging, saying goodbye, and crying. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers, likely meant for their homeroom teacher.

“Congratulations, Akira.”

“Thanks.” Akira has hidden himself away from the chaos, leaning back against the chain link fence separating the track from the rest of the school. He’s already met up with Aunt Natsumi and Ami, who gave their congratulations as well and then went home early. He wanted to wait around for Amanome.

Amanome leans back against the fence beside him and the two listen to the carrying voices of the entire school. They watch the third-years on the rugby team throw their uniforms off the roof and their underclassman scramble to grab pieces of them. Akira never joined any clubs; looking around, he sees he missed nothing.

The future is yawning wide before them and he feels if he looks into it he’ll be swallowed. He still has no idea what he’s going to do, not wanting to grind it out in a low-wage contract job. Amanome was right; he really isn’t meant for normal life, is he. Still he won’t entertain following him into the Family.

Except.

When he looks to his left and watches Amanome, looking at the fervor with a mocking smile on his face (he’s probably not even aware he’s doing it), Akira thinks, ‘This might be the last time we’re together, huh?’

Akira presses his palms together and grinds them against each other.

“You should still consider it,” Amanome says, as if reading his mind. “But I think you’ll be fine. You’re a survivor, Akira. You’d shine less brightly if I took that away from you.”

“What are you talking about? You’re being weird.”

“I guess so,” Amanome agrees, before pushing himself off the fence and announcing he’ll see Akira tomorrow.

Akira lets him go, a look of pure confusion on his face.

**

Akira is in bed, curled up with his palms pressed over his eyes. He had a nightmare with the sensations of ripping flesh and flailing uselessly, the smell of blood and the satisfied, full laugh of a spirit. The pressure behind his eyes is intense. Taking a deep breath, he tries to exhale the pain. He gets these attacks sometimes; they come on suddenly and leave when they feel like it. Well, he has to work today so they better leave soon.

When he finally feels better he gets ready for the day. No messages for once. Maybe the Mirror Princess took pity on him and didn’t kill anyone last night. He rubs his stomach at the sense memory of being ripped open. Twice. Amanome better appreciate this.

He takes his time for once, makes breakfast, and then is off to work to deal with the day. The sky is clear but gray. The winter is especially harsh and suffocating this year as if determined to make its full potential known. On the way, he thinks about his conversation with Yashiki and that probing question about whether Ami was dead. Not even over his dead body, Akira thinks. He’d come back as a spirit to protect Ami. What a weird thing to ask. He picks over his memories of Hanasaki Apartments, asking himself if it’s possible he missed anything at all. He can’t think of it if he did. The Mirror Princess remains an enigma for now.

At work, Amanome is involved in a conversation with a higher-up so Akira waits off to the side of the room, taking in the people. He always got the feeling people here were intimidated by him, even though they’re, well, Yakuza. Something to do with being so obviously Amanome’s—and then Akira thinks why on Earth is he referring to himself as Amanome’s property. Yeah, he’s mouthed off and gotten his ass handed to him a few times, but usually Amanome’s disappointment in him is a worse punishment. He was called “Seiji’s dog” once and Amanome put an end to that real quick. So, yeah, he wouldn’t say he has friends here.

When Amanome is finished, he joins Akira’s side. He jumps right in with, “I can come with you today.”

Akira only nods. Normally he’s enough to handle the dogs, but this must be special if Amanome wants to come. Honestly the details bore him; it all becomes the same thing after a while, the same petty motivations, the same excuses, the same pleas. When did he learn to tune out the pleas?

And it is more of the same; the dog makes the same excuse that he offers good info and helped get the investigation scuttled so he deserves just a bit more credit, a bit more compensation, and Akira subtly leans into him while Amanome explains that’s simply not going to happen, and wouldn’t it be a shame if his supervisor learned of his involvement with the Family, tut-tut. It might require a bit of payment on the dog’s end to shut Amanome up. Stammering, the dog asks what he wants and Amanome smiles. 

Ever the same, really. The matter is resolved as quickly as it started. Amanome hums to himself as they leave. Halfway down the street he spins around, walking backwards. “I think we should stay on top of him for a few weeks, until we know he understands us.”

Akira nods. He knows that’ll fall to him, Amanome’s ‘Take everything but the Mirror Princess off your plate,’ aside. Akira swears to God Amanome thinks he’s able to duplicate himself. 

His shoulder is burning today. He shrugs but it still hurts. Amanome did that, too.

He checks his phone; no emails from Hazuki or Yashiki. He can’t help but feel like their window to act is closing. At least his friends are here.

**

“Thank God you’re hardheaded,” Amanome says as he dabs at Akira’s eyes, which have blood in them from where he nicked his forehead on his opponent’s teeth when he headbutted him. “Doesn’t your brain get rattled enough?”

Akira, muttering and rubbing at his face, listens instead to the dull roar of the crowd gathered outside. They want one more glance at the champion, and he’s happy to give it to them if it means they throw more money at the underground matches. He only has one more fight tonight and he’ll make it a good one.

Amanome swipes at him one more time before withdrawing his hand. Through squinted eyes Akira can make out that he looks more concerned than judgmental. “You don’t bust that one out unless you’re _really_ desperate. You good to go out again?”

He has to be, Akira thinks. “Yeah. I’m fine.” 

For his reward he takes three to the head and gets his arm yanked behind his back before with a pop it dislocates. He screams, but he still has three good limbs and with a stroke of luck kicks high and slams his foot into the side of his opponent’s head, knocking him unconscious. The crowd goes insane while Akira grits his teeth, trying not to show pain.

The doctor pops his arm back in but it still hurts all the way home. 

Amanome walks with him.

“What’s your problem tonight?” Amanome asks tactfully. “Nobody’s ever gotten you like that before.”

And that’s true—Akira is normally untouchable in a fight, able to perceive the slightest telegraph of a movement and dodge effortlessly. Even he’s surprised someone got the jump on him tonight. “Shut it. I’m allowed to have a bad night.” He expects Amanome to quip back, but instead he’s quiet. When Akira looks at him, he’s considering Akira.

They arrive and despite Amanome’s protests that he’s bored, Akira doesn’t let him in. He’s not in the mood for anything, especially when he’s still in pain. Besides, he has to wake up early for work tomorrow. The same low-wage contract job Amanome promised him would be waiting on the other side. Akira is nineteen and he can’t do this for the rest of his life, he thinks as he eats cold leftovers over the sink. He can’t fight forever and he can’t do this job forever. He feels like he never sees Amanome anymore, except for at the UG Match, and when they do meet they have less and less to talk about. Amanome’s world is shrinking into something that can’t accommodate Akira like it used to.

And there’s still the matter of— Why did they— No. He won’t think about it.

Akira rotates his shoulder and hisses at the pain. He won’t sleep well. He’ll be twenty soon and feels like he’ll go absolutely nowhere with his life if he doesn’t do something.

It’s time to make a decision.

**

Hazuki contacts him the following day; Yashiki has found the original poster of the Mirror Princess thread, and they live in Tokyo. They want to meet in a public park in winter. Akira groans at the thought and Amanome actively complains all the way there. Hazuki is already there when they arrive, and they approach at the same time as Yashiki, who’s already extending his hand to the silver-haired girl waiting.

“Suzu,” he says warmly. 

‘Well, she looks a bit young for him,’ Akira thinks.

“Mister,” she replies, taking his hand briefly. They exchange more pleasantries that Akira tunes out, instead turning to Hazuki to thank her. She’s on her PDA, frowning as she’s likely dealing with talent chaos.

“This girl, I swear,” she’s muttering, “Has no idea how lucky she is. My manager never would’ve put up with this crap.”

“What is the world coming to, when you can’t trust idols?” Amanome intones, and she frowns at him. “It’s almost like it’s a career that doesn’t require any integrity.”

“Keep being cute and see what happens,” she says darkly, and Amanome almost pouts.

Their business done, Yashiki asks her, “How did you end up back here?” There’s a hint of concern in his voice.

“I don’t have a Mark, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She shrugs. “And as for that, I found spirits interesting after we met Hanayome. In a way, this is your and Eita’s fault.” She smiles. “He’s doing well, by the way.” She turns to the trio. “I’m being so rude, my name is Morimiya Suzu.”

“Hey.” Akira’s first question is a graceless, “How did you survive? She kills anyone she comes in contact with.”

Morimiya fingers her hair, letting it slip between her fingers again and again. “About that… She mentioned something. She asked me, ‘Are you Momo?’ and I took a guess and said ‘Yes.’ She was overjoyed at that, and I lived. I still have no idea who Momo is, though.”

Hazuki lights up. “Momo Kuruse! I always knew the spirits were listening!” She holds up both fists, glowing. “And this one has great taste.”

“Sure,” Amanome mutters. “Of course the evil one likes her.”

Morimiya looks embarrassed. “Oh, um, are you a fan? I’m afraid I have no idea who that is.” She looks to Yashiki, who shrugs.

“So we know the Mirror Princess was alive in…’99? Hazuki, when did your career die anyway?” Amanome asks, folding his arms against the cold.

Hazuki glowers at him. “I was starring in films until 2004. What have you done in the industry?”

“Stop it,” Akira says, almost wanting to apologize for them. “If she was a Momo fan, then yeah, she died between 1999 and 2004.” Racking his brain, he can’t remember if any case fits the bill, but at least now he has a clue. “Did you see anything else?”

“Well, she’s a little girl, but it’s almost like you’re looking at her through tarnished glass. I could barely make out her face. Hm...she asked me about her brother, like she expected me to know. I remember because at first she called him by his first name.” Morimiya thinks. “‘Where’s Akira?’ Yes, that was definitely it.”

The chill Akira feels has nothing to do with the weather. “...You’re sure that’s what she said?”

Yashiki looks at him, interested. He’s keen and observes, “You said your sister was alive.”

“She is. My name’s common; there were like two other Akiras in my year alone.” It’s not crazy that some other little girl died and happened to have an older brother that shared his name. It’s Tokyo, it’s massive.

Morimiya looks baffled. “Is this familiar to you?”

“No,” Akira says. “It doesn’t make sense at all.”

**

Later, much later in his life after he’s seen too much, it will occur to Akira that he did not think at all before he said yes. 

The end of his old life begins when he asks Amanome what the ceremony for joining the Family is like. Amanome answers his question as if it’s benign, and then says, “Why do you ask?”

“Would you take it easy on me,” Akira says, voice uncertain, “like you promised you wouldn’t?”

Amanome cottons on immediately. “Are you serious?” He shakes his head, disbelieving. “Don’t ask me these things if you’re not.”

“I am.”

At the time, all he thinks is that joining the Family is his only ticket out of a life he hates, and his only way back to Amanome’s side, and at the time, that’s enough.

When he’s scrambling years later to make it the right choice, he’ll think that he was fucking stupid, but at that moment, all he can do is smile to himself when Amanome says: “Then no. I’ll make it the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”

**

Yashiki won’t be satisfied until he actually sees Ami, he says, so to the Black Rabbit they go. Akira knows she helps out when she’s home, and there she is polishing glasses at the bar when they arrive. She doesn’t acknowledge Akira until he says, “Ami, are you my sister?”

“What? Yes, I’m your busy sister,” she says without looking up.

Akira looks at Yashiki and gestures to Ami, and Yashiki looks bewildered. “It’s a hell of a coincidence,” he finally says.

When Ami finally realizes other people are there, she starts and sets her glass down. “Oh! Akira, why didn’t you tell me we have guests!” She introduces herself properly and offers them drinks, to which they decline. She still looks embarrassed. “Why are you here?” she asks Akira, tone neutral.

He doesn’t want to tell her at first, so Hazuki does: “It’s about the Mirror Princess.”

“What?!” Akira exclaims, looking sideways at her.

Hazuki shrugs. “She’s my friend. We talk.” To Ami, “This is my friend Yashiki.”

“Oh! This is him?”

Yashiki looks at Hazuki as if to ask what she’s saying about him behind his back. Akira is glad he knows how it feels.

“Miss, do you mind telling me how old you were in 1999?” Yashiki asks Ami.

“Ten, why?”

Yashiki looks at Akira and gestures as if to say, ‘See?’

“It’s not her. You see she’s alive, so let go of your dumb theory,” Akira says.

“Ami, help your thick-headed brother settle an argument. Do you think it’s possible you’re a spirit?” Amanome says, smirking.

Without missing a beat, Ami says, “Maybe in another universe.”

Amanome looks to the ceiling, muttering, “Oh my God,” so Hazuki picks it up:

“What do you mean?”

“It was mentioned in one of my lectures. The many-worlds interpretation. The idea that there exists an alternate universe for every result of every possible decision we make. I don’t believe in it, but it is interesting. Why are you asking me?”

Yashiki looks like he’s on the fence. “Could you believe that’s possible at all?”

“Well…” Ami suddenly looks uncomfortable and old instincts spur Akira to stop this line of questioning, wanting to protect her. “Hypothetically, it’s not impossible that I could’ve died in another universe and come back as a spirit. Though I don’t know why I would.”

Another headache rips through Akira, and he groans, clutching his left eye where the pressure builds. He sees Ami, a child, just a child, lying on the floor here in a pool of blood, tucked beside her dead mother like a twisted family photo. Flicking, writhing, just out of frame, is the arm that tried to strangle him.

And then it’s gone, the images fading like they’re fleeing his anger. It’s just a nightmare. During the day. While he’s awake. It’s internalized fears of not being a good enough brother, of his worries about Ami.

“Are you okay?” Amanome asks.

“It’s a headache. Not gonna die.”

“Then don’t be such a baby,” Amanome says, teasing returning them to their normal equilibrium.

“Are we done? I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a lot to do before the bar opens,” Ami says.

“Yeah,” Akira says. “We’re done here.” He escorts the others outside, bidding them to go home for the day because he’s tired. To Yashiki, he says, “You satisfied?”

“For now,” Yashiki answers honestly. “I’d be careful ruling out any theory if I were you. Spirits never fail to surprise me.”

Footsteps come up to them, and then: “Then it’s a good thing you’ve worked a long time, Kujou Masamune, who in the past six months has racked up two traffic violations and a trespassing arrest, and whose partner is shadier than a cedar tree at high noon.” Amanome has come up from behind Akira, and smiles. “I never do business without knowing a little something about the other party.”

Yashiki is unimpressed. “That’s just how Mashita is,” is all he says, and waves before turning. “I have some business to take care of. I’ll call you.”

After he’s gone, Hazuki following him and calling for him to wait, Amanome says, “Headaches, huh?” He’s always been able to read Akira and it’s not fair. “Is that why you thought I was a monster?”

“Yeah,” Akira admits. “I don’t know what they are.”

“Well, they’re not from other universes,” Amanome scoffs. “Honestly. You haven’t gotten enough sleep, or you have a brain tumor, or something else. Promise.”

Akira wants to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yashiki's questionable choice in common-law husbands, and other things he has to defend at least three times a week.
> 
> take suzu and eita being friends from my dead hands, also amanome+hazuki sniping.
> 
> you guys are being lovely, thank you very much!!


	5. Chapter 5

To “Take his mind off things,” Amanome offers to take Akira out. They end up at a bar, a quiet place where Amanome sometimes takes the people he pumps for information, sitting at the counter. 

“Are you sure?” Akira asks when he orders Hibiki whisky, and Amanome says, “I need it after the week we’re having.”

Akira sips his soda, too sweet but something to have. He knows how this is going to go down and he’s not looking forward to it. “I’m not waiting for you if you end up bent over a toilet again.”

Instead, he has to pry Amanome off of a bush in a public park. Akira hates his job. He really does.

Amanome bats weakly at him. “No, the world is spinning.”

“I’ve got you,” Akira says, pulling Amanome to his feet and draping his arm over his shoulders so he can support Amanome as they walk. Amanome continues talking about nothing as they amble; Akira listens to it like it’s pleasant background noise. He’s warm and heavy but not unpleasant. Can’t take him back to the office like this, so might as well take him to Akira’s place and let him complain in the morning.

“Brother,” Amanome says as he’s leaning against the wall as Akira keys in. “You’re really important. Like, soooo important.”

“Thanks,” Akira says dryly as the door swings open with a nudge from his foot. He picks Amanome back up and guides him to sit on the floor inside. Amanome puts his face down on Akira’s kotatsu. “Stay put while I get you some water.”

As Akira does so, he hears shuffling behind him and then turns to find Amanome flat on his back, gesturing aimlessly at the ceiling. “Momotaro, Momotaro,” he’s singing. “Those millet dumplings on your waist / Won’t you give me one?” He sang the same lines when he saw Akira’s completed tattoo for the first time. It’s Momotaro engaged in battle with an oni, his three companions perched across Akira’s upper back and shoulders. Okayama Tomoko was a badass, plus if one is one of the few who knows about the NG Days they’d understand the connection between fighting oni and facing spirits. When he’s annoyed with Amanome, Akira tells him the monkey on his right shoulder represents him.

Akira notices something and makes a face. “God, you have vomit on your shirt, hold on,” and tugs at Amanome’s buttons, Amanome groaning and pushing at him, until they come free. He doesn’t know when he became Amanome’s keeper; it was probably a long time ago, when they were still kids and they became each others’ brothers.

Amanome rolls onto his side once he’s free and exposes his back; whenever Akira sees the pattern of entwined snakes and peonies there he thinks it looks fitting. Amanome lives and breathes his job and it shows here, in the way his tattoo fills his back and is starting to creep down his upper arms. Tucked just beside his hip is a peach, and on Momotaro’s armor is a peony. They’re marked on each other. Akira doesn’t remember whose idea it was, just that it felt right and still does.

Amanome is starting to fall asleep, so Akira gives up and puts a blanket over him, tucks a pillow under his head. “Akira,” Amanome says, “do you remember when we were kids?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We could do anything we wanted back then. I miss it.”

Yeah, Akira supposes, he does too.

Amanome continues, “Would you still get a tattoo if you went back?”

Akira leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. “No,” he answers without thinking.

“Really?” The subtext is disappointment.

Akira doesn’t soften it. “It’s a pain when I want to wear short sleeves,” he lies. “Go to bed.”

When Akira approaches him, Amanome snatches his ankle. “You’re the best, Akira. You really do belong here.”

“Sure, sure, go to bed you drunk,” Akira says, gently prying him off. Amanome is asleep before Akira finishes cleaning his shirt in the sink. When Akira lays down, he dwells on what Amanome said. Sometimes he would like to go back to those days, when freedom was taken for granted and he had his whole life in front of him.

Akira rolls onto his good shoulder and stares at the wall until he passes out.

The next morning, Amanome complains about Akira’s place as per usual, and the shirt Akira lends him being too long. Akira tunes him out and continues fixing breakfast, which Amanome does not complain about.

They spend the day at the office, catching up on little tasks with the subordinates, and by the time night falls he gets a message from Hazuki to meet her at her agency, it’s about you-know-who.

Arriving at Hazuki’s agency, they get looks when they enter the office; Amanome starts charming the receptionist to get past the remote-access door and Akira hangs back. He looks around at posters of smiling idols in costumes and bikinis, all beckoning, all appealing. He feels too old to be here. He wonders which charge is Hazuki’s.

Hazuki emerges looking pleasant but exhausted. “Hey!” She leads them back into the hallway, leans against the wall beside a framed photo of some idol group Akira doesn’t know. “I took a shot in the dark and asked the girls if anyone could remember a young girl who died.”

“Wow, you’re excellent company,” Amanome says, considering his nails.

“And I got a hit! What did Amanome get you?” she says, pointedly looking at Akira. Sometimes it’s difficult not to feel like a toy that they’re fighting over. “One of my girls had a neighbor when she was a kid who died young—car accident. And from what she could remember, the girl had an older brother named…”

“Akira,” he says, finishing her thought. “How long ago was this?”

“Ten or so years ago, so when Momo Kuruse would’ve been popular.” Hazuki smiles. “The brother’s name should be Hasebe Akira. You’re welcome.”

“You called us out here for this?” Amanome says.

“Oh, no, more than that—he’s on his way now.”

“What?”

“I found him online and it turns out he’s an Ayane fanboy, so I emailed him and told him he was invited to an exclusive meet-and-greet with Ayane. It took some convincing, but he’s on his way. If you talk to him—”

“We might be able to determine the source of the Mirror Princess’ grudge.” Akira dares to let himself hope it will be this easy. If Hasebe can shed some light on his sister and her death, maybe the Mirror Princess can be laid to rest, and he won’t be left digging through garbage and putting his life at risk trying to down a spirit.

“Come with me,” Hazuki says, and leads them back through the reception area, past the controlled door, and to a back office that must be hers. She must be somebody to have this so young, Akira thinks. There’s a tiny pink ghost statue on her desk, something Akira kinda remembers from when Ami was young—a Momocci?

They kill time talking about a drama they all happen to watch (well, Amanome makes Akira watch it with him when they should be working) and before they know it the receptionist, confused, says there’s someone here for an event. Hazuki retrieves him, and soon they’re stuck in that small room with Hasebe Akira. He’s a tall, lanky guy, hair washed and neatly combed and skin clear—he doesn’t look like what Akira pictures when he thinks of an idol fan, but maybe he’s being judgmental.

“Ah, where’s Ayane?” Hasebe asks Hazuki.

“There’s some extra paperwork before you can see her, forgive us, it’s all a formality. These are my assistants, they’ll get it all sorted with you.” Hazuki excuses herself to grab the ‘paperwork.’

Amanome gets to work, getting Hasebe talking about his university course and how long he’s been a fan of Ayane, even working in a teasing dig about whether he has a girlfriend yet, making Hasebe laugh. Hasebe never asks again about the paperwork, seemingly enjoying Amanome’s company, as a lot of people do until they know what he’s really like.

Akira doesn’t know how he’s going to make the transition to the Mirror Princess until Amanome checks his phone and says, “Y’know, Ayane has a very refreshing vibe, but she reminds me too much of my little sister to be my type.”

“Excuse me? Hasebe sobers.

“Y’know, little sisters. They ruin everything,” Amanome says lightly. “As part of the process, we looked at your family registry and saw you have a little sister, right?”

“I...I had one,” Hasebe murmurs. “She passed when I was younger.”

“Oh, forgive me! I don’t know how I missed that.” Amanome makes a show of looking abashed and apologetic. “May I ask what happened?”

“A car accident.”

“What was her name?” Akira interrupts, and Hasebe looks at him.

“Don’t you have the registry?” 

Oh. Yeah. Amanome tosses him a look before saying, “Ignore him, he once took a flying heel to the head and has been a bit slow ever since.”

“Why are you asking me about Rena?” Hasebe is quick, though not quick enough to question why he’s still here.

“No reason, am I prying?” Amanome asks innocently. “Did Rena like idols too?”

A sad smile crosses Hasebe’s face. “Yeah. Do you remember Momo Kuruse?”

“Absolutely. I loved ‘Wander Rabbits.’”

“Momo was her favorite. She really wanted to go to her concert, but…”

“But?”

“But she passed before it came.” Hasebe swallows. “I’m sorry, am I going to see Ayane soon?”

Hazuki returns then with an annoyed-looking idol, and excuses Akira and Amanome so the ‘event’ can start. Wanting to thank her, they stick around in the now-empty lobby, not speaking, just digesting.

“So,” Amanome finally says, “we got what we wanted.”

“But not what we needed.” Akira frowns. “That doesn’t explain why the Mirror Princess showed me Hanasaki Apartments. She must have a connection to that place.”

“It’s a start, Akira,” Amanome adds. “You can do anything with a start.”

“I know.” Akira thinks of all the spirits he’s fought before with the same amount of information or less. He’s figured out a way before, he’ll do it again. Amanome is right.

When Hazuki finds them, she looks harried. “This girl…” she starts to complain, and then shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I just owe her a favor now. Did that help at all?”

“A little,” Akira says. “Thanks, Hazuki.”

“Anytime.” Hazuki rubs her arm. “I’m going home, unless you need something else. It’s been a long day.”

Amanome pauses before saying, “Why don’t you hang out? I’m bored of his company anyway,” he says, tossing a smile at Akira. Akira snorts.

Hazuki looks surprised. “Sure.”

**

They go to a diner, arriving with frosty hair and shoes, and order too much food. They try to talk about non-spirit things—work (or as much as Akira and Amanome can tell her), the unusually cold and snowy weather—but they gravitate back to the topic.

“Yashiki says Hasebe Rena is worth investigating,” Hazuki says without looking up from her phone. “He wants to come with us when we finally go to the site.”

“Sounds fine,” Akira says, stabbing his fork through a french fry just to have something to do with his hands. “Why not tomorrow night?”

“I can dismiss my people for the night,” Amanome says, looking contemplative. “I’ll make something up.”

“Good,” Hazuki says, actually looking pleased at Amanome. “Then we have to start preparing for the spirit purification.” She smiles to herself. Akira knows when she has an idea. “Yashiki has taught me a thing or two, so I’m coming with you.”

“Good, you can drag Amanome’s dead weight,” Akira says.

Amanome looks affronted and twirls his spoon in his hand. “Hey! I _did_ help with Kubitarou and the Demon Tsukuyomi.”

“You stood there and looked like you were gonna piss your pants, maybe.”

Hazuki gives a small, amused laugh. “You two really haven’t changed. It’s nice to see.”

“I guess so,” Akira says, stealing a look at Amanome, who’s suddenly very interested in his perfectly-kept cuticles. He laughs under his breath, but it’s unconvincing. Akira wonders what’s on his mind.

“Come on,” Amanome says, changing the subject. “I know a place that hasn’t taken their Christmas lights down yet.” Amanome does not give a shit about Christmas, outside of going on dates with girls who never seem to stick around. His parents always get their hopes up when they hear of one, hoping this is the time he settles down and gets married. Amanome says it’ll finally happen when he finds one that doesn’t bore him, but Akira spends so much time with him that he knows Amanome never seems to go out of his way to date, just endures the tide of yakuza daughters his parents try to set him up with.

Still, they go see the lights just to have something relaxing to do. Akira remembers doing this with Ami once, right after Kakuya, and he surprised her by taking her ice skating with Amanome and Hazuki. Her little face was beaming as Hazuki helped her skate around the ice while Akira watched Amanome fall and laughed at him. 

Ami still is barely talking to him, not that they had much time to talk before between his job and her studies. After he snapped at her, she still hasn’t forgiven him it seems. It’s not like him; he doesn’t talk to Ami that way.

He’s looking up at a string of lights draped over an arch, turning green to blue, when they blur in his vision and a stabbing pain behind his right eye overtakes him. He covers it with his palm, thinks, ‘Not now,’ and curses under his breath.

“Akira? You alright?” Amanome asks, though his voice is underwater now.

“Hurry, sit down,” Hazuki urges, and then she too is gone.

_”Oniichan?” Ami says just before the limb rips through her tiny body, opening her up like a flower, blood and gore spraying across the floor like petals. The last look on her face is confusion and betrayal._

Akira cannot help himself: he screams.

When Akira comes to, when the screaming in and outside of his head stops, he’s braced against an alley wall, Amanome and Hazuki flanking him.

“Ami,” he whispers. “Ami.” As if she can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did it happen again?”

Akira can’t speak, he can’t think. All he can see is Ami lying there in her own blood, and—

Her mother’s blood. When he focuses, he can see Aunt Natsumi beside her on the floor, equally shredded. He can’t breathe.

“Akira?”

“Kijima?”

Akira exhales and tries to breathe out the crippling pain. He needs to make sure Ami is okay. When he can finally speak, he says, “Take me to the bar.”

**

Aunt Natsumi and Ami are fine, if confused, when he appears at the Black Rabbit. The night crowd doesn’t acknowledge him as he takes Ami and Aunt Natsumi in, feeling relief fill him as they consider him, and finally Ami says, “Oniichan, you look sick. Go home.”

“Do you think those other worlds could exist?” He has to know.

Ami looks at the crowd, gestures to them, but he presses and finally says, “Yes. It’s possible. There’s a non-zero chance. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lies. He’s just glad she’s okay.

“Akira, can we talk later?” Aunt Natsumi asks, diplomatic as ever. “You can tell me whatever is wrong after the bar closes.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, but nods at her suggestion. Beside him, Hazuki and Amanome exchange looks. 

They gather in the back, and Amanome asks him, “What did you see?”

“Just...just Ami, and she was—” Akira shakes his head. “Something killed her.”

Hazuki covers her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“At least it isn’t this world,” Amanome adds. “If those are even real.”

“I think it was the Arm Spirit,” he says. “It looked like the arm that attacked me.”

“So a different problem to solve,” Amanome says, folding his arms. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises. “How do you see something kill Ami when Ami is right here?”

“Maybe what Ami said is true—that there are alternate worlds, and Kijima is seeing them,” Hazuki says. “I knew someone who once foresaw their own death. It’s not impossible.”

“I guess so,” a voice says behind them, and the three turn to see Ami in the doorway.

“How long have you been here?” Akira says.

“What’s the Arm Spirit?” she replies. “And how did I die?”

Akira’s head pounds as he explains, and when he’s done Ami is frowning.

“Oniichan, you should’ve told me,” she says, care evident on her face. She plays with her hands before saying, “You can yell at me if you want, but I still want to help you. If it involves me, I think I deserve to know.”

Akira wants to lie to her, but he can’t. “Okay,” he says, feeling weak but relieved. She’s the girl who saved him from Kakuya, and the woman who wants to save him again. “Okay.” And so he tells Ami everything, from beginning to end, stopping only once when Aunt Natsumi comes into the back to restock something at the bar. When he’s done, Ami has her hand over her face, before she takes a deep breath.

“And you wanted to do this alone?” she asks him, exasperated. “Oniichan, you have friends.”

“We can hear you, Ami,” Amanome says, and she waves him off.

Ami approaches him and pats his forearm. “I’m here.” And she is, alive and in front of him, grown. Thank everything she is.

“Do you really want to help?” he asks her.

“Yes. Because it’s you.” Ami smiles at him and the little part of his heart that is hers stirs again. “It’s just like Kakuya. If a spirit wants to hurt you, they have to fight me.”

Akira doesn’t know what to do, and as if embarrassed by her own earnest declaration, Ami laughs a little, which makes him scoff. Normal siblings again.

“Well,” Akira says. “Let's do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wuv the kijima siblings.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning it’s freezing and raining; Akira thinks that this is just their luck. He hopes it’s done by their journey tonight. They’re supposed to meet Yashiki this evening. Akira has the day off, so rare that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Amanome says he wants him to be fresh for this evening, so he spends the day preparing best he knows how. He stretches out, warms up for the inevitable confrontation. The Mirror Princess is a ranged combatant so he’ll have to be quick and think carefully about facing her head on. He brainstorms what her weak spot must be; he’s fought things that were too fast, too big, and too clever to just attack before, and though she’s a little girl and he’s a trained fighter, it doesn’t mean she won’t kill him if he lets his guard down.

He packs his old backpack. The flashlight, spare gloves, a notebook, a hand mirror, rubbing alcohol, a lighter, anything he can think of that might be useful. If only he could justify bringing Hasebe Akira into this; seeing her brother might help her pass on, having finally found him again. So far he’s only seen two of the victims, one who didn’t look like Hasebe and a man who was too old to be Hasebe, so she’s picky about who she lets live. Morimiya was safe because she reminded the Mirror Princess of Momo Kuruse, and Akira can’t pass as Momo. There’s also the mystery of if the Mirror Princess is really involved with the Missing Nine case, although if he adds that to his caseload right now he’ll get a migraine.

Maybe it’s better not to involve others in this: tell Amanome and Hazuki to stay home; refuse to let Ami follow him; tell Yashiki it’s his life and make his own decision. Unbidden, Akira remembers Maruhashi, Ooe, the park security guard, Ami, Hazuki, and Aunt Natsumi, all people who got hurt because they were in his orbit. Hazuki and Aunt Natsumi have never told him if they saw anything, went anywhere during their comas; back then, he expected Hazuki to not be able to shut up if she went to the Realm of the Dead, but nothing so far.

Evening falls. He (reluctantly, but knowing he can’t sway her or go back on his word) picks up Ami and she clings to him as they ride off. Ever since she’s been big enough to ride on his bike, she’s hated it, even though he goes to great pains to go slower than he’d like and take smooth turns. The roads are wet today, with a layer of light snow that started falling in the late afternoon, so he’s extra careful. The lights blur as he rides past them; Ami taps his knee to indicate it’s too fast, but no time for that now. When they arrive, Ami dismounts the bike with shaky legs, holding on to his shoulder.

Amanome and Hazuki are already there, bundled up and looking miserable. It won’t be any better inside, trapped in the cold with a potentially lethal spirit, Akira wants to tell them. “What are you wearing?” he asks Hazuki, noticing the old familiar silver wig and face tattoo.

“If the spirit likes Momo, I thought I’d give her Momo,” Hazuki says with a nostalgic smile, twirling some fibers around her finger.

“It ages you,” Amanome mutters, and the two share a look of mutual antipathy.

“Stay out here and keep watch,” Akira tells Ami, kicking slush off his heels. 

She opens her mouth to protest, but Amanome adds, “We really need someone out here to keep any curious explorers out.”

Akira claps his hands together, trying to warm them up. “Where’s Yashiki?”

“He’s running a bit late,” Hazuki says. “Car trouble.”

They talk about their plan for a bit, waiting on him, and Akira is about to call off waiting for him when just in time, a van slowly pulls up, looking like it’s barely held together. It looks like the definition of ‘car trouble.’ Yashiki gets out, saying something over his shoulder to the driver before shaking his head and stuffing his hands in his pockets. The driver says something about Yashiki having fun and then peels out.

“Who was that?” Akira says.

“Just a friend. He won’t be joining us tonight; he has his own business” Yashiki has a similarly full cross-body bag across his chest, looking like an experienced exorcist. Akira has heard he’s done this before, but seeing him so ready adds another layer to the Yashiki Kazuo he knows.

He looks at Ami, confused by her presence, but she, undeterred, says, “I’m helping my brother, too.”

Yashiki looks wistful at those words, before sobering. “Well?”

They leave Ami outside, shivering and telling them to be safe, and head inside, guided only by flashlights. The skeleton of the building should be no more threatening than it is during the daytime, but the knowledge that a spirit is roaming it makes the air feel heavy. Without speaking, Amanome and Hazuki divide themselves by their respective close friends’ sides. The beam of Amanome’s flashlight is bouncing everywhere, anticipating a threat they haven’t yet found. Akira lightly slaps his arm to tell him to quit it. Yashiki and Hazuki search the room methodically.

Proclaiming the first floor clear, they head upstairs, Akira feeling as he always does like the stairs will barely hold their weight. At the top of the stairs, Yashiki pauses, holding up a hand and slowly waving his flashlight over a spot in the corner. If Akira squints, he can make out a little shadow, human-shaped but flickering, but then it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Yashiki reaches into his bag, grabbing something that makes a clear tinkling sound, and hands them to Hazuki—suzu bells. He withdraws a thick, reinforced umbrella and opens it. “This is special; it should help protect against her mirrors. Just stay near me.”

Akira’s old belligerence to authority rears its head, but he swallows it. Instead he reaches into his own backpack and retrieves a heavy fire blanket before handing the bag to Amanome. It’s a longshot but if he can create some type of barrier between them and the Mirror Princess, then maybe it will buy him some time to talk to her.

He’s in a corner, Amanome all but clinging to his arm, when he first hears it: a sound too heavy and sharp to be the suzu bells. He swivels his head, taking stock, and notes Yashiki and Hazuki standing in the framing of the next room; they’ve heard it too and stop still. A beam of light flashes in his face and Amanome makes a quiet, strangled sound. Akira turns and follows the light until he sees it:

The Mirror Princess is small, wavering in his vision, but unmistakably strong. Her spiritual energy floods his senses and her shuddering, wet breaths, like she’s choking on fluid, fill the air. An aura seems to separate her from them, like a tarnished mirror, as before. It’s difficult to make out her face but he can confirm she’s a girl. She’s focused on him and Amanome, her confusion palpable, before she asks, _”Who are you?”_

Akira pulls the blanket taut between his hands, and nudges Amanome with his elbow to indicate he should get behind him. “We’re here to put you to rest, Rena.”

The spirit tilts her head in confusion, but she doesn’t attack him. She stands there for a long moment, as if deciding what to do with him, and before she acts Akira hears Hazuki say,

“Good morning! How’s your guardian angel today?” in her chipper idol voice. Everyone shoots her a look that says, ‘Be quiet,’ but she approaches the spirit anyway, offering her free hand. “I hear you’re my biggest fan, Rena.”

The spirit’s intensity instantly changes; a pure giggle fills the air and she chimes, _”Rena?”_ like it’s the silliest thing she’s ever heard.

Yashiki seems confused. “That was your name. Hasebe Rena.”

The spirit almost seems to pout before saying, _”No, I’m—”_ A little wet gasp, and the spirit turns to face Akira again. _“Oniichan!”_

Something in that word, those syllables, breaks him. Akira’s mind moves double-time, thinks of Ami’s words about other worlds, his past experiences with spirits that manipulate time and space. He sees the Mirror Princess’ black hair and, now that he’s looking, the bloodstained purple headphones around her neck. He has no idea what happened to her, but he knows it is her.

Defeated, he says, “Yeah. I’m here, Ami.” He extends a hand. “You see me. So go on ahead. Don’t hurt people anymore.”

His first hint that something is wrong is guttural breathing behind him, heavy and sharp, and then pain rips through his back as something slams him to the floor, so hard and powerful he skids along the concrete, bruising every rib, his head ringing. Fleeing footsteps indicate that at least Amanome is safe.

_”Oniichan’s here!”_ the Mirror Princess—Ami—calls gleefully, and it occurs to Akira, winded on the floor, that the monstrous thing standing over him is her beloved ‘Oniichan.’ The first thing he can make out is the arm that tried to strangle him as it winds around his head, squeezing and squeezing, dragging him along the floor by his neck like it’s playing with him. The suzu bells ring furiously and he tears at the arm just as he hears shattering glass and cries. No, no, no, not them _again_ , hurt him, he can take it, but not—

He perceives being lifted into the air only long enough to be slammed back against the floor. Only the cushion of his thick coat, and then barely, keeps him from scraping all the skin off of his side and arm. His head’s going to explode, the pressure unbearable. He lashes out with his legs but can’t hit anything; the arm is long and writhes around his skull, applying more force as if it enjoys his pain. His neck is going to break if he doesn’t think of something. But what?

A pop and then ‘woosh’, and then his vision fills with light, orange and vibrant. 

And the monster lets him go. Fire surrounds it though it hasn’t caught, and it tosses its head, looking for a way around the flames. The Mirror Princess runs to its side, taking its human hand. The tentacle arm that was just used to try and kill Akira winds gently around her body, pulling her closer to the monster and away from the fire.

Something yanks him along the floor, and he kicks outward, catching someone in a soft, fleshy part and they groan. That doesn’t sound like a spirit.

“I’m trying to help you, idiot,” Amanome hisses, and Akira can see him in his sideways view, holding his stomach. Akira can barely lift his head. Hazuki appears by Amanome’s side and helps him to his feet; someone, probably Yashiki, drags Akira out under the arms, facing out to where he can see the monster, behind a wall of flame and rising smoke, staring him down. Those eyes stayed fixed on him the entire time they leave.

When they get outside, the cold is refreshing on his scraped face and sore neck. Yashiki sets him down and he rests his face in the snow, eager to not feel anything.

“Oniichan!” Ami says, and his head painfully snaps up, looking for the Mirror Princess. His Ami is standing over him where Yashiki laid him on the wet ground, letting the slush soothe his sore body. “What happened?”

Nobody answers her. Amanome is calling emergency services for the fire; Hazuki is breathing hard, the bells shaking; and Yashiki looks grimly at the burning structure. Fire is ripping through the interior, latching on to and devouring the wood framing and insulation; it illuminates him and makes his normal dour expression look dire.

After Amanome says to go, the four leave, Akira needing to be half-carried by Yashiki. He can’t feel anything now except for pain, stumbling along. Yashiki calls his friend as they huddle in an alleyway and after uncountable moments that same van ambles up. They get in.

“What did you do to this one?” a man says in a low voice, turning around in the driver’s seat to size up Akira, who glares at him.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?” Yashiki says, ignoring the barb like this is an old pattern for them.

“No,” Akira gets out. Pained, he gives the name of a private clinic that treats people like him, that won’t be shocked if they take his shirt off and see his tattoos. Then he hunches over and tries to breathe through his aching ribs. 

The rest of the night passes in a blur, and initially Ami wants to take him home with her, but he refuses until she throws her hands up and says fine, she’ll go home with him. She doesn’t listen to his protests. At home he collapses into bed and falls asleep before Ami can ask him any questions. He wakes up once, shucks his shirt off without thinking because he’s too hot, and falls back asleep.

In the morning, Ami is palpably uncomfortable around him, and he wonders why until he realizes she can see his tattoos now. He hurries to re-dress, but can’t take that back, she saw. She plays with her hair and looks down at what she’s cooking, knowing she wasn’t supposed to ever see those.

“I always thought so,” she says, “but I was never sure. You’re always with Seiji, but I wanted to think that you…”

“Your mom never told you,” he guesses.

“Mom knows?” She looks at him, her eyebrows knit in annoyance.

He nods. He knows that he can treat her well for the rest of her life, but she’ll never see him the same way again. It’s what he signed up for. But not with Ami.

They don’t talk for a long moment, and when Akira opens his mouth to speak again, a door knock beats him to it. Then his buzzer goes off, insistent, and Ami answers the door. Amanome strides in, taking in Akira before saying, “You look rough.”

“No shit.” Akira thinks that the Arm Spirit definitely should’ve killed him, but he fortunately got away with no internal bleeding, his ribs are bruised but not cracked (he’s had that before, it sucks), and no head injuries. His face is scraped up and he thinks he’ll never sleep again, but he got away lightly. Yashiki’s umbrella protected himself and Hazuki from the Mirror Princess, and Amanome, though the credit will go right to his head, saved Akira with that improvised rubbing alcohol fire—at the cost of the construction site, Akira learns.

“Dad is the one who taught me how to make Molotov cocktails, I should tell him this is all his fault,” Amanome says lightly. Inside he must want to vomit, but here he is with his arms folded, leaning against the counter casually. Over two years of effort, and he sent it all up in flames to save Akira. ‘I carry you,’ he’d said.

“Where’s my bike?” Akira asks.

“At the office. I had somebody come pick it up. You’re welcome.” 

When Ami takes the food off the burner and steps out to call her mom, Amanome says, “What’s wrong with your face?”

“I got dragged across concrete.”

“No, you don’t look like you. What’s up?” he asks curiously.

Akira lets out a sigh that has nothing to do with his injuries. “Ami found out.”

“Ms. Natsumi got over it. Ami will too.” Amanome shrugs. “And if she doesn’t, it’s not like she can change it.”

“Right.” Akira leans back against the wall behind his bed. “What are you telling your dad?”

“Oh, I’m in it deep, especially since this ‘all could’ve been prevented’ if I hadn’t dismissed the guards last night. You should’ve heard him this morning.” Amanome doesn’t look like he’s slept; he probably got knocked around something good for this. “It’ll be fine. Glad you’re okay, best friend.” His eye twitches, but his words are sincere.

Define okay—Akira’s so stiff he can barely move and his head was almost twisted off his body last night. When he tries to roll his neck he hisses. Concern crosses Amanome’s face. Akira changes the subject because he doesn’t want to linger on the fact that he got his ass kicked.

“Where’s Hazuki and Yashiki?”

“Hazuki has to work and I don’t know what happened to Yashiki. He called me and said he’d be in touch soon. Does he think it’ll ruin his mysterious aura if he tells us what he’s thinking?”

Ami returns and smiles at Amanome. “Are you hungry, Seiji?”

“For your cooking? Always! You’re your mother’s daughter, of course.”

“Stop,” Ami says before grabbing two more eggs from the carton. 

The three eat a late breakfast together and chat. Ami seems distracted, and when Akira makes eye contact with her, she looks away. He frowns. Amanome looks between them, curiosity on his face, but just placidly smiles to himself. He asks Ami about school instead, when she’s going back, and what she thought of last night.

“I was outside, so I didn’t see what happened in there, but,” she bows her head, “thank you for saving my brother, Seiji.”

“Anytime. You know he needs it.”

Akira rubs his sore lower back and lets them talk about how dumb he can be, teasing because they care (or in Amanome’s case, because he can). This feels like when they were kids, just joking around and hanging out together with nothing to do all day. Spreading his hand out over his back, Akira can almost sense the ink there. His choice, but a choice he realizes now, looking at Ami, he didn’t fully grasp the consequences of at the time. Can’t change it now, he thinks, and takes another bite to have something to do. It’s Ami, she loves him. She’ll—


	7. Chapter 7

Akira sends Ami and Amanome away so he can rest. He’s out of commission for the rest of the day, laid up in bed just feeling the aches. Although twenty-eight isn’t old, he feels every year of it today. It was a spirit, he justifies to himself. It wasn’t the same strength as a normal human. Nobody can fault him. 

He’s just gotten out of the bath when his door buzzer goes off. He calls to the visitor to wait as he gets dressed, grunting when he lifts his arms above his head and his sides strain.

Yashiki is serious as ever, standing before him with a folded umbrella. “May I come in?”

No point in turning him away; Akira could use the debriefing after what the hell happened last night. “Sure.”

Yashiki is a conscientious guest, removing his shoes immediately and shaking his umbrella off outside before carefully setting it beside his front door. “How are you feeling?”

Akira is sick of talking about that, so he just says, “Fine.” He steps aside so Yashiki can come further into the room. Once inside, the two stand there awkwardly for a moment before he indicates Yashiki can take a seat at the kotatsu. Akira sits across from him and says, “What do you want?”

“Just to speak with you privately.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“Hazuki.”

“How does she—Ami.” Akira shakes his head. “About what?”

“I think you’re woefully underprepared to face these spirits.”

“I always am,” Akira retorts. “And I’ve done it every time.” Give or take a few bodies.

“Alright, listen—I’ve simply done this longer than you have. Ask Hazuki. When I say you’re not ready, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Well how do I get ready?”

“…I think you should allow me to handle this. I have more experienced partners to help me, and—”

“No. I promised Amanome.”

“Does that mean anything if you die? If your sister does?”

Ami is a low blow and Yashiki knows that. “They’re grown adults, following me. They all made their decisions.”

“I’m asking you to change their minds, for everyone’s sake.”

“No.”

Yashiki taps his fingers along the surface of the table. “As long as you charge ahead, you’re endangering everyone around you.”

“I’m already in danger. You said so yourself—the spirits are appearing in places connected to me. The Arm Spirit is obsessed with me. How am I supposed to walk away?”

Yashiki looks stumped for a moment, before saying, “I promise you I’ll do everything I can to end this quickly.”

“I won’t. Walk. Away,” Akira says slowly, anger dripping from his tone. And it’s true, he can’t save everyone—he couldn’t. He knows that. And he also knows Hazuki is brave and Amanome resourceful and Ami stubborn as he is. They aren’t leaving him no matter what he does. There’s something about the four of them, whether it’s dumb luck or synergy, that makes them stronger together than they are alone. “Don’t ask me again. Follow us or don’t.”

Yashiki sighs. “It’s your choice. But you need to be more careful. Study more, take fewer risks with other people’s lives. You were very lucky Amanome had the materials to start that fire. The Arm Spirit will have your head next time if you fail to prepare.”

‘You think I don’t know that,’ Akira wants to say. “What do we do then?”

“We have to figure out the connection between the Arm Spirit and the Mirror Princess, first. And maybe then we can establish what the Arm Spirit’s grudge is.”

“The Mirror Princess called him her brother,” Akira says, heart torn. He can’t get a good look at the damn thing. If the Mirror Princess is Ami, then…who would be her brother? He knows what he saw of her, but. But is it him, like Ami from another world? It’s possible.

“Spirits can appear in pairs, usually if they were connected while they were living, or one holds a grudge against the other. Spirits have also been known to work together, however, like Kakuya and the spirits she sent after you.” Yashiki pauses. “She could just be an exceptionally polite spirit, with the way she addresses him. She was a little girl when she passed.”

Akira swallows. There’s a version of Ami that is dead. Was she his collateral damage too? “Say it was me. Why would I hurt Ami?”

“Only you know the answer to that.”

Akira rubs his temples, for once willing one of his visions to come through, but nothing.

“Kijima,” Yashiki says as he removes his coat. “There’s something you should know.”

“What?”

“Sometimes, you can’t find the grudge. And when that happens, you have no choice but to destroy them and live with the consequences.” Yashiki pulls his shirt up and the first thing Akira notices is he’s a study in scarring: bitemarks, puncture wounds, lacerations, burns. “I’ve lost people due to my carelessness. I don’t want you to go through the same thing.” He pulls his shirt back down and tucks it back in, rearranges his jacket.

Akira believes that. But he’s not as afraid as he knows he should be; he can’t afford to feel that way. “What did you lose?” He should mind his own business, but Yashiki intrigues him.

“Someone’s younger sister,” Yashiki says, averting his eyes. “Her name was Saya. She died because they abandoned her, and she still came back as a spirit to try and save hi—them.”

“I see.” Akira shouldn’t pry more, the expression on Yashiki’s face tells him so. He won’t lose Ami. Ami would come back, he thinks. He doesn’t want to be like Yashiki. 

He changes the subject. There’s one way to learn more about what happened last night. “Did you happen to notice any blood at the scene?”

Yashiki rolls his sleeve back and reveals a bandage swaddling his forearm. “The Mirror Princess nicked me when she fired at us. Hazuki’s told me about your power.” Yashiki gestures to his coat, where Akira can make out a brown stain along the edges of a rip he didn’t notice before. “Is this enough blood to use your power on?”

It’s small, and faded like someone tried to wash it away, but it’s worth a shot. “I don’t know, but give it here anyway.” He spreads the jacket out over the kotatsu and places his right hand over the stain, willing himself to focus as hard as he can, and can just barely make something out.

_The mirror shards bounce off or puncture the umbrella, but don’t rip through Yashiki and Hazuki, who hold it open together. Yashiki has his arm around Hazuki, holding her close so she can hide with him. He’s breathing hard as the umbrella sags under the weight of the glass shards piercing it through._

_“Ami!” Hazuki calls. “Please stop, it’s Kaoru! Your brother wouldn’t want you to do this!”_

“I don’t understand,” _the Princess says, sounding hurt._ “Oniichan is sick. I have to stay until he feels better.”

_“What’s wrong with him? Help us understand!” Yashiki says. He lowers the umbrella and sees she’s standing with her shoulders slumped, looking forlorn._

“Everything.”

_Before she can attack again, the fire kicks up behind her, and the Princess is distracted enough for Hazuki and Yashiki to bolt._

When Akira surfaces, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose from the effort it took to focus on such a small amount of blood. He feels lucky he could pull even that up. “So she wants to help her brother?” Akira rubs his head. “The fire. He tried to protect her when it started. He cares about her at least a little.”

Yashiki looks far away. “A little sister coming back to protect her brother. I know it well. Their feelings for each other were very strong when they were alive.”

Akira breathes out powerfully through his nose. It makes sense that even as an unrecognizable monster, Akira cannot help but care about Ami. And when he read the monster’s blood, he felt everything that it did, almost like it was a part of himself.

“I have no idea how the hell this works,” Akira begins, “but I know that it’s me. I’m the monster.” He touches the scrapes on his face and thinks of the trace amounts of blood that could be on the building’s floor. “And I think I know how to learn the source of my grudge.”

**

Amanome and Hazuki are receptive to meeting up at the bar and listening to his findings. They’re waiting in the corner, talking intently about something, but stop when they see Akira and Yashiki approach. After Akira tells them his conclusion, Hazuki looks intrigued and Amanome disbelieving.

“Akira. Come on. Alternate universes.” Amanome shakes his head, throwing his hands up. “I can tolerate spirits. I can’t tolerate this.”

“Why? You witnessed Demon Tsukuyomi turn back time.”

“Okay, true.”

“Really wish I could’ve been there for that,” Hazuki mumbles. “But, no, I had to be in a coma.”

Amanome rolls his eyes. “I’m saying let’s not jump on this theory without more evidence.”

“That spirit was Ami, I know it was.” And if she’s here, it means she’s in hell. She can’t move forward and she can’t be among the living again. He doesn’t care if the Arm Spirit kills him—he’s saving Ami. “Are you going to help or aren’t you?”

“Sure, I know you’d just try to break in anyway,” Amanome says. “Probably fall off a ledge and break your neck. What an embarrassing way to die.” He outlines the damage to the structure, says it’s dicey but it might be safe enough to explore for a short while.

Aunt Natsumi politely bids them to take their leave as more customers start to filter in, so they head outside.

“Where’s Ami?” Hazuki asks.

“At home,” Akira says. He didn’t call her just yet because he doesn’t want her coming tonight. Not if the Arm Spirit will return. He and Yashiki sorted through trash and Yashiki’s hoard to find what they hope will be effective weapons against it, and told Hazuki and Amanome to do the same before coming to the bar. “We don’t know what we’re going to find tonight, so, well. Sorry if I got it wrong.”

“We do this knowing there’s always a chance we could die,” Hazuki says warmly, way too happy for what she’s saying.

“I’ve got too much to do before I die, buddy,” Amanome agrees. “So I don’t plan on it tonight.”

Akira’s lucky he knows them. 

The building doesn’t look stable, Amanome’s right. It’s blackened but standing, and it’ll have to do. Akira holds his breath at the first sweep of his flashlight, exhaling when he doesn’t see either spirit on the first floor. The confrontation happened on the second floor, and he heads up there with as much boldness as he has, expecting something to grab him at any second, so he and Amanome both jump when they bump into each other.

He doesn’t perceive it when his foot crosses the threshold and he enters the next world, just knows that as he moves forward, the world changes and a new one slides into view, and then he’s standing in his old apartment. Everything is as it was when he lived there, even one of Ami’s forgotten sweaters hanging on the wall. The others crowd in behind him, pushing him forward. 

“Yeah. This place still smells,” Amanome says, trying to sound light. “Just as crappy as I remember.”

Hazuki’s suzu bells waver in her hands as she takes it in. “Amazing.”

Yashiki blinks and says, “Is this her doing, or his?”

“Ami’s,” Akira says. “She showed someone else this place before she…” Knowing the spirit is Ami makes it way harder to say ‘killed someone.’ He takes a deep breath before clapping his hands three times per Yashiki’s direction and announcing, “Hey Ami, if you’re here then show yourself.”

A girlish, shuddering breath, and the Mirror Princess appears before them. She doesn’t speak.

“I’m here to help you move on,” Akira says. “So tell me why you stay.” His voice is calm and even but inside he’s anything but: edgy, guilty, and ready to get this over with.

The spirit tilts her head at him before saying, _”Not without him. He won’t go, so I have to stay._

“Ami, I’m telling you I’ll be just fine.” He shakes his head. “Would I ask you to hurt people?”

Ami pauses before saying, _”He’s just sick. That’s why he did it.”_

“Did what, Ami?”

_”Hurt me.”_

Akira wants to sink through the floor. For a moment his shoulders sag, and his eyes narrow with sadness. A part of him knew—though he didn’t want to know—that his was the arm that killed Ami. But hearing it is something else. “Ami, I’m so sorry,” he says in an undertone, approaching her with his hand offered. Someone grabs his shoulder but he shrugs them off.

The spirit considers him before slowly reaching out herself. When they make contact Akira gasps; her touch itself is sharp and the skin of his palm splits open, exposing bright red blood, when she takes his hand. It burns the longer she holds him but even when he tries to pull away he finds he can’t. Even when Yashiki tries to pull him back, she doesn’t release him.

 _”Hey, mister,_ she says. _”Maybe he’ll let you be my brother when he’s done.”_

Akira’s eyelids fall shut, and he can’t open them again.

**

Kakuriyo isn’t what he remembers it to be. Well, the colors are still inverted shades of purple, the angles all wrong, and the scenery familiar, but his head is clearer than it was when Kakuya held him captive here. Akira presses two fingers to his neck and finds his heart is still beating. He is alone. His hand is still bleeding, so he rips some fabric off of one sleeve and fashions a bandage out of it.

He's at the underpass again, the same one he passes through with Amanome when they're on their way to the site, feeling nostalgic. His footsteps echo as he walks, looking side to side, vision blurring. The Mirror Princess brought him here for a reason. Think. The most horrifying option is that he could be in Kakuya’s domain, that maybe the three spirits were collaborating to bring him back here. But the Mirror Princess is loyal to her brother, and he can’t see her obeying just anyone else.

The second option is that she wanted him here for herself. What does ‘be her brother’ mean if she already has one?

The third is what she hinted at—that the Arm Spirit wants him, and she was merely obliging by bringing him, all but gift wrapped.

He walks and walks but as before he can’t get anywhere. The underpass stretches on ahead of him, endless. Being completely alone, with no Amanome and Hazuki arguing or Yashiki proclaiming dire things, is freaking him out. After he’s had enough of it, he fills his lungs with air before exclaiming, “Well come on! Where are you?” There’s no way to do this but survive long enough for the others to pull him out, and he stands the best chance of surviving if he can see his enemy. If he charges head on he’ll die, but if he runs he’ll die tired. Just buy time, that’s the secret.

At the sound of footsteps, he whirls but finds nobody there. He turns in a circle, searching every potential vulnerability with his eyes, focusing his instincts, but nothing. Akira is completely alone.

But, he thinks, making fists, he won’t be for long.

He continues walking, not wanting to waste his energy until it’s time to fight, and to his surprise comes upon a puddle of black blood that wasn’t there before. Getting down on one knee, he reasons there’s only one thing to do and reaches out to touch it.

 _Ami tugs on his tattered sleeve, long since worn away after death, and says,_ “Did I bring a good one? Are you happy?”

_The only thing that really matters to him is the chase. This boy looks too fragile, they all look so fragile because they are, easy to rend and to crush and to bite chunks out of when he’s tired of letting them run._

_The boy backs away from them on all fours, sweating, whimpering as he looks up. When he tries to stand, he falls, and then falls again before finally succeeding._

“Run,” _Ami says._ “This is his favorite part.”

_The boy runs and the monster watches him, waiting until he’s almost out of sight. Kakuriyo is easy to lose someone in, but he knows every shadow, every corner of his domain, and he’ll find the boy. The monster waits a moment longer, and then he gives chase._

Akira is sweating when he comes out of the vision, and worse, feels an overwhelming sense of dread. The kind that prey animals feel when they know they’re being stalked. Looking over his shoulder, he sees exactly what he knew he would.

Standing at a distance is his predator. In the ghostly light of Kakuriyo, the Arm Spirit is easier to make out. Akira can recognize himself, a teenager still, one arm a long and writhing tentacle and the other human. The Mirror Princess is holding his human hand, but he doesn’t acknowledge her otherwise. His glowing, animalistic eyes are focused on Akira; his malevolence is smothering.

“You want a game?” Akira shouts as he gets to his feet. “Well I’m not running from you! Fight me!” This is the dumbest thing he can possibly do. He knows he has no chance, but his stubbornness and his will both tell him to stand and fight the way he’s done his entire life. He'll have to trust his friends if he wants to get out of this alive, and if he dies he dies doing what he loves.

The Arm Spirit slips out of his sister’s grasp, gently pushes her away by the head, and rolls his neck just like Akira does. 

And then he charges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a lot of fun so thank you guys very much!! Your comments are really lovely and I'm fascinated by what people are picking up on/guessing!


	8. Chapter 8

As the monster bears down on him, Akira gathers himself enough to think. The Arm Spirit doesn’t feel pain, he can’t be reasoned with, and he can’t be worn down. So the name of the game is defense, buying time until someone else rescues him. 

And, Akira thinks with one last regret, the Arm Spirit likes to play with his food, so if this goes poorly it will take a long time to die. 

Akira grounds himself as the other approaches, then when the spirit’s within reach Akira grabs his human arm and pulls, using his forward momentum against him to throw him a good distance away. The spirit doesn’t falter, even as he falls forward, instead catching himself on his hand and whirling effortlessly so he’s balanced on three limbs on the ground, like an animal. He shifts his weight onto his heels and then jumps.

No time to open his bag, so Akira makes it his weapon, swinging it into the monster’s midsection when he lunges at him. That knocks him off balance but again he recovers, with a frustrated growl as if telling Akira to stop playing already.

“What, you getting mad?” Akira says, backing up. “Good.”

Akira throws his forearm up in time to catch the spirit as he crashes into him, bracing against the spirit’s neck, and brings a knee up into his hard, unyielding stomach. They grapple until the tentacle wraps around his forearm and wrenches his left arm to the side. Resisting the spirit is like resisting being crushed by a thousand ton weight. 

The spirit gets a firmer grip on Akira and forces him to turn facing outward. Akira can see the Mirror Princess watching their scuffle and playing with her hands. He wants to call out to her, but has a feeling she won’t listen to anyone but her monstrous brother.

If he gets on his knees, he’s dead. He pulls forward with all his strength but the spirit is immovable, holding him there. His arm is freed but he feels the tentacle wrap around his waist, and before he can struggle he’s lifted up in the air again. He can’t prepare for the impact as he’s thrown to the ground once—

and again— 

and again. 

His whole body aches and he’s too winded to get back up. His nose is pouring blood. The monster stands over him, then he takes a knee, grabs Akira’s right arm, and leans forward, taking the bloodied bandage in his mouth. He pulls it away, then licks Akira’s palm, seeking blood. His tongue is cold and disgusting.

Akira tastes blood. His ears are ringing and his nose burns. The scabbing on his face skin ripped open. A hand squeezes the back of his neck and slick, sharp teeth graze his wound. This is game over, then. He didn’t even get off a good shot.

 _”Oniichan,”_ a polite voice asks. _”Not this one. I like him.”_

Akira, with great effort, looks and sees the Mirror Princess tugging at what remains of the spirit’s sleeve. She’s insistent and she’s buying Akira time whether she means to or not. When Akira struggles, the spirit lifts him a few inches off the ground before shoving him back down.

The Arm Spirit turns his head, expressionless. He growls and the Princess tugs again.

_”Let this one be my brother. Just for a little bit.”_

The spirit seems to be thinking about it, and then he releases Akira’s hand from between his teeth. When he gets off of Akira it feels like a mountain’s been lifted away, and Akira tries to get on his hands and knees only to wheeze and collapse. The tentacle wraps around his ankle and as his consciousness fades, Akira feels himself being dragged along the ground. He’s cold, and tired, and for the first time, letting himself feel afraid.

**

Ami is having an off night. She can’t shake the feeling that something is happening tonight and Akira didn’t tell her about it. It haunted her as she cleaned glasses and restocked liquor before the bar opened, and it haunts her now as she sits in the back room of the bar, studying her chemistry textbook surrounded by spare chairs, glasses, and liquor stock. She can’t focus on what she’s reading and is almost grateful for the distraction when a commotion comes from up front. The manager’s voice, polite but subtly annoyed, and then someone else’s voice, desperate and loud. 

Ami hears them before she sees them: Seiji, Kaoru, and Yashiki bursting in, out of breath. It takes them a moment to be able to speak, as they’re trying to catch their breath like they ran quite some distance.

“We need a mirror!” Kaoru exclaims, looking up from where she’s bent over with hands on knees.

“Your brother—” Seiji starts, but coughs.

“The Mirror Princess has kidnapped your brother,” Yashiki says, the first to be able to compose himself again. “We have to get to the Realm of the Dead.”

Ami almost drops her textbook. Fear and shock flash through her, and she stands up, feeling cold. She remembers the Realm of the Dead in a rush, feels ceramic arms around her, and shudders. “T-There’s one here,” she gets out, and rushes to uncover the one on the wall. Ami still covers mirrors when she’s alone in a room with them. “Are you really going to go?”

Kaoru nods, Yashiki is resolute, and Seiji looks like he’s about to pass out from fear. Kaoru notices this and says dryly, “He’s your best friend.”

“It’s a world of spirits!”

“Amanome!” She puts her foot down. “I’m telling him your secret if you don’t go. It’ll be the first thing I say!”

“Fine! He’ll expect me to be a coward anyway!”

“Leave him, Hazuki,” Yashiki says abruptly. “You’re coming with me.” 

“I’m going too,” Ami says.

Kaoru looks apologetic. “Ami...Kijima wouldn’t want you to—”

Damn what Akira would want! Ami’s not going to sit here and let him be killed. She screws up her fists like a child. “I’m the only one here who’s been to the Realm of the Dead!”

“Not the only one,” Yashiki says. “I’ve been myself, and I can only handle one partner here.” He looks between Kaoru and Ami. “I’d prefer Hazuki, but I respect your feelings, Kijima.” He steps back as if telling them it’s up to them to choose.

“Kaoru, please, he’s—he’s my brother. I saved him before, I’ll do it again.” Ami looks into Kaoru's eyes and implores her to understand.

Kaoru plays with the hand mirror she’s holding. “I’m sorry, but—” Then she lets out a noise of surprise as Seiji snatches the mirror from her hands, her face indignant.

Seiji tosses it to Ami with a, “Go Ami, Hazuki and I will play nice while you’re gone,” and then catches Kaoru’s neck in the crook of his arm, pulling her against him in a mock-playful grip. While the two of them pull and push at each other, Ami sets up the hand mirror across from the mirror on the wall. She hurries to stand between them, feeling the spiritual energy rising as the road opens. Yashiki is just trying to pry Seiji off of Kaoru when Ami first feels like floating.

Ami remembers being spirited away, and she bites her tongue as she feels herself entering the mirror. She thinks of Akira, and she asks whatever may be listening to guide her to him.

When she enters the Realm of the Dead, she looks around and half expects to see the bathroom she was held in back when she first came. Yashiki doesn’t have to know she spent her entire time in a room, she thinks. For all he knows she’s an expert on the place. She plays with the hem of her shirt as she looks around at the strange surroundings. 

The walls are dark and indistinguishable from each other, and on all angles and surfaces are purple-stained mirrors, some tall as humans and others fragments the size of faces. They emit light and in their reflections Ami sees herself, looking sure. The atmosphere is smothering. She shivers.

Ami focuses, trying to feel if Akira is nearby, but she doesn’t even know what she’s doing, much less what to do if she runs into those spirits. She feels her breathing grow faster, and puts a hand to her chest. “You’re okay,” she says.

She’ll have to be.

**

When Akira wakes up, he’s too sore to move and still frightened. He’s alone in a dark space covered in mirrors, purple and radiating pale light. Looking down at his hand, he sees the wound has clotted, although teeth marks are indented into the skin around it.

Got to get up, got to get out. He tries to lift himself up and collapses again, grunting. His body is screaming to stop, and he holds his ribs, breathing shallowly. Nothing feels broken, but cracked isn’t out of the question. To say nothing of potential internal bleeding. He lifts his shirt and sees bruises covering his torso. That’s nothing compared to what will happen to him if he doesn’t run. The Mirror Princess wanted him to be her brother and last time a spirit wanted to be his little sister, he and Ami almost died.

He manages to roll onto hands and knees and slowly, slowly get upright. Once he’s on his feet he can better pretend that he’s fine, and shakes his head to clear it, tightens his good fist. He doesn’t hear anyone nearby, and he steps up to consider the mirror in front of him. 

He looks like hell, blood crusted across his upper lip, bruising on his jaw, lip busted. He got curbstomped for the second time in a week; he’s not used to that happening. Behind him in the mirror is milky swirls, and the air does seem denser here, and cold. He half expects to be able to see his breath in front of him. He breathes on his hand to feel the air move. Ami said once that humans don’t need to eat or sleep in Kakuriyo, do they need to breathe? Is he alive?

Touching his nose, trying to wipe away the blood, it burns. He grumbles. So sick of spirits. He feels a familiar tingle when he brushes his fingertips against his bloody lip, and with a deep breath, he dives in.

_The Arm Spirit stalks his prey. A girl, walking alone ahead of him, quietly singing to herself as she walks._

_He was prowling with frustration earlier, irritated his earlier prey was gone, when he noticed her and his mood instantly lightened. He sinks lower to the ground, debating pouncing on her and debating letting her get a bit further away and giving chase. He was robbed of his earlier chase and the thought makes him burn. He wants an opponent, a challenge, and the ideal prey was in front of him until She decided that She wanted him. But he had to comply; She won’t help him chase prey if he doesn’t let her have one every once in a while._

_He must wait for their final fight._

_But, he thinks as he follows stealthily behind the girl, he doesn’t have to wait for this one._

Akira presses his forehead to the mirror, breathing hard. What is Ami doing here? He’s going to die kicking that spirit’s ass if any harm comes to Ami. He has no time to be angry and debates what to do. Shout and he could draw unwanted attention, take his time and they could all die. 

So he hurries.

**

Ami got turned around at some point, and now she doesn’t know which way to go. When she backs up, she bumps into a mirror and whirls around only to see herself. Tired-looking, drawn, an unknown bruise on her arm. Her reflection is her only friend here. Her hands are shaking from the cold.

“Oniichan?” she whispers, hoping he hears her. Her body feels heavy like it did back then. To distract herself she starts thinking about the taxonomic rank of various insects, paring down to individual species as she walks. Her footsteps are muffled and everywhere she looks she sees herself. She’s only felt so alone once before.

She doesn’t register the tiny footsteps behind her until she realizes they stop a moment after she does. Turning, she sees what Akira described as the Mirror Princess. She’s watching Ami, wavering a little in her vision as if she’s an image on wavy paper. She doesn’t speak.

Ami breathes, “Hi. Hi, um, Ami. I’m just looking for my brother, like you, and then I’m leaving. Sorry to bother you.”

_”Brother?”_

“Right! Akira, just like yours, but—” Ami raises her head and finds herself staring into blank eyes, hypnotized, blinking.

_Ami waits bouncing on her heels at the top of the stairs, looking down at Akira as he comes up, laden down with the shopping._

_Akira braces his elbow against the table, palm up, and Ami puts both of her hands in his, throws her body weight against the table, and she still can’t pin his hand to the surface. He lets her struggle for a while before pinning her._

_“I told you the pan is hot,” Akira says as he drags her by the wrist to the kitchen sink, running lukewarm water over her burned fingers. “Are you okay?”_

When she releases Ami, the spirit sighs. _”That’s the kind of person my brother really was. You know.”_

“I do.” Ami has an idea. “Your brother isn’t as mean as people say he is, right Ami?”

The Princess clutches at her head, pulling at long strands of hair. _”He didn’t hurt me on purpose.”_

“I know, I know, he’s a good person, right?” Ami bends over, hands up. If she upsets the Princess, she doesn’t want to know what will happen. “So tell me what happened, Ami. I’ll believe you.”

And so she does.

When it’s over, Ami can still feel her throat filling up with blood, struggling to breathe on the floor, still in shock about what just happened. She’s shrunk back from the Princess, pressed up against a mirror, and covering her face.

 _”You don’t believe me,”_ she says, disappointed, and then a gentle crushing sound fills the air before she squeaks, muffled beneath something.

When someone grabs her arm, Ami cries out before they push their other hand over her mouth, yanking her away from the Princess, struggling beneath a fire blanket that’s been thrown over her.

“Quickly,” Yashiki says in her ear, guiding her down a narrow hall made of mirrors. He releases her once they’re at the far end, in a slightly larger room. This place is a maze, a den for demons. 

Ami bites her lip. She thinks of the monster that killed the Mirror Princess. She wants her brother.

**

Akira catches his breath against a wall, the pressure to keep moving putting more strain on his body. He keeps going until he sees a small figure up ahead. The Mirror Princess. A shredded blanket is at her feet and she looks put out.

Thinking quickly, he approaches her, casual, and says, “Where have you been?”

_“Mister!”_

“I was looking for you,” he says, wincing with the effort it takes to sound natural, holding a spot on his ribs. “Thanks for helping me back there.”

_”My brother really likes you, too!”_

Interesting.

“Where is he now?”

_”Why? Let’s play.”_

Oh god, not those words again. “I really need to know now, Ami.” He touches his nose but he can’t read any more blood from it to try and see into the monster’s mind. Changing topics, he tries, “Did you see anyone else we can play with?”

_”Yeah! You want me to show you?”_

“Yes!”

He follows the Mirror Princess down a hallway, winding, narrowing as they go until his sides are brushing glass as he moves. He notices the Princess is touching the mirrors as she passes, and as she does the images change, showing her pictures, allowing her to follow the movements of anyone in this place. He sees the back room of the Black Rabbit, even, with Amanome and Hazuki waiting there, arguing it looks like. This is how she finds people, Akira realizes, for the spirit to hunt.

“You’re what lets him come over,” he says. “He needs you to bring him what he hunts, because he needs your mirrors.”

 _”Yep! This is all mine,”_ she says proudly, spreading her arms as wide as she can. _”I made it so my brother doesn’t have to worry.”_ She stops still and he bumps into her, pain searing his legs when he touches her.

Standing across the room from him is Yashiki and...Ami.

And standing between them is the Arm Spirit. 

When Akira tries to shove past the Mirror Princess to reach them, she grabs his leg and splitting pain fills it, keeping him bound to the spot to watch, helpless.

Yashiki has managed to utilize zip ties to bind the offending arm to the creature’s leg, though the spirit still lashes powerfully, attempting to free himself. Yashiki and Ami try to move backwards but bump into a mirror, stuck. They’re caged in.

“Let them go,” Akira says, almost pleading, to the Princess. “Let them out through the mirror.”

 _”I can’t,”_ she says in a small voice. _”My brother will be unhappy.”_

Akira tears at her hands but only succeeds in cutting his own further on her. “I’ll protect you from him, just let them go!”

The ziptie snaps. Yashiki pushes Ami behind him as the spirit lashes out, the tentacle wrapping around his neck. 

The sound of his neck snapping is the loudest sound in the world.

Yashiki collapses, dead before he hits the ground.

“Ami!” Akira calls.

Instead of panicking or screaming like Akira expects, Ami pulls Yashiki’s bag off of him and searches it. Akira is still frantically trying to extricate himself and he watches as Ami retrieves the flashlight and reflects it off of a mirror, aiming to make a powerful beam of light that blinds the Arm Spirit. He snarls and covers his eyes.

She darts away from him, towards Akira when he calls for her again. The creature ignores her, instead wrapping his tentacle arm around Yashiki and dragging him off. What the Arm Spirit’s going to do, Akira thinks he knows and he doesn’t want to.

Ami is breathless when she snatches his hand away from the Princess, not caring when he smears blood on her. She’s pale, shaking head-to-toe, but carrying Yashiki’s bag like it’s a prize. She looks at Akira and lets out a desperate, relieved laugh.

“See? Your brother is fucking happy now!” Akira shouts at the Princess. “He won! Now will you let Ami go!”

Ami smacks her chest, fighting for air, before she says, “Hide-and-seek. If you let us go, we’ll hide out there, and you two have to find us. Sounds fun?” Her eyes are eerily flat, and tear-free. “Your brother will love it,” she says in a steady voice.

The Princess thinks about this for a moment before releasing Akira. _”Okay!”_

The next thing he feels is relief, followed by release.

**

Akira’s home. He’s home and everything is wrong.

Ami has not lifted her head since they returned. She’s sitting on the floor, legs crossed and knees up with her head resting on her arms. Aunt Natsumi is kneeling on the floor in front of her, entreating her to talk, to let her clean Ami’s bloody hands. The two women are their own world, as if a barrier separates them from the others.

Akira is feeling his injuries, now that he’s safe again and the adrenaline is gone. He’s sitting on a spare chair, his head back to look up at the ceiling. Amanome stands beside him but a ways off, unsure what to say. For once having nothing to say.

After she heard, Hazuki stepped outside to call Yashiki’s partner, and she hasn’t come back yet although many minutes have passed. She’s eerily calm compared to the others. The entire mood of the room is somber, exhausted.

“Akira,” Aunt Natsumi says. “You need a doctor.” Trying to control what she can control, she stands up and with one last pat to Ami’s shoulder, she goes over to Akira. He closes his eyes and feels her wiping his forehead with a bar rag. “And then you’re going to tell me everything that’s going on.” When Akira looks at her, her eyes are kind but torn, her mouth a flatline.

“Later, Ms. Natsumi, I promise,” Amanome says. To Akira he says, “Our ride is here.” He helps Akira to his feet, steadying him when he wobbles, only making a small face at the grime that comes off of Akira onto his hands.

“Ami,” Akira says softly as he’s walked towards the door looking back at her, but she doesn’t look at him or anyone.

In the alley beside the bar, Hazuki is smoking and talking on the phone still, her voice angry and hard instead of upset, like one would expect. She waves Amanome off when he tries to get her attention, and it’s such a specific gesture that Akira can tell she’s angrier at Amanome than the person to whom she’s speaking. No time to talk to her, as a car is idling in the street. It’s one Akira recognizes as belonging to a member of the Family.

Amanome has to help him inside, too, and once they’re settled Amanome directs the driver to the same private clinic that they just visited; Akira is not looking forward to the questions, although he does like watching Amanome spin lies to answer them. Akira slumps against the window.

“Turn the music up and mind your business,” Amanome orders the driver, who obeys. Amanome looks at Akira, not pitying but it still makes Akira uncomfortable. “When Maruhashi—”

“Don’t.” It was Akira’s fault Maruhashi died, too, wasn’t it? “I don’t wanna hear this.”

“Well how are you getting to the clinic if I kick you out of this car?”

“I’ll walk.”

“You can barely stand.”

Akira reaches over and makes like he’s going to rub his dirty hand all over Amanome’s face, and Amanome raises his leg and digs his heel into Akira’s thigh. They’re deadlocked for a moment before Amanome lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Okay, okay,” Amanome says. “I’ll stop being nice to you, you brute. You clearly don’t understand it.”

“I guess so,” Akira says, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek harder against the glass. He thinks of mirrors.

At the clinic the doctor is exasperated at seeing him so beat up so soon after his earlier visit; again nothing is broken or cracked, just sprained in the case of his nose. He's covered in cuts and scrapes that are easily disinfected and bandaged as needed. He’s not coughing up or pissing blood, he can walk, he’s fine. As fine as a dead man walking can be. He’s told to stay off his feet and come back for a follow up visit in a few days.

By the time they’re leaving the building, dawn is coming. The sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but at least it’s not snowing or raining yet. Akira wants to walk off this funk, but Amanome urges him to accept a ride. They ride in silence to Akira’s apartment. When they arrive, Akira gets out of the car without saying anything.

“Hey,” Amanome calls after him, like a passenger calling to a retreating ship, “I mean it. Call me.”

Akira knows it’s bad when even Amanome can’t find something clever to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Yashiki.
> 
> I'd like to remind everyone that Amanome and Hazuki are almost 30 here.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! For my part I recently had a Covid exposure so it's been a wild end of my week.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: implied sexual content
> 
> i promise this fic will end as happy as it can fkjgnkd. thank you for the well wishes also!!

Akira hears a buzzing noise. He’s soaking in his tub, trying to soothe his sore body, and he can’t get rid of this noise. It’s a background sound, taunting him that he can’t stop hearing it. Like his brain is broken.

He keeps expecting Yashiki to call, to walk through the door. He didn’t know the man, but still Yashiki died protecting Ami. Ami, who hasn’t spoken to him all day. He’s messaged her, tried to call her. He has to hear she’s alright. Aunt Natsumi said she’s fine, just resting, but Akira wants to hear her voice. He wonders if she’s going through what he did—does—after the NG Days, when he shuts his eyes and sees Maruhashi with his severed head or Ooe bleeding out.

And now he hears Yashiki’s snapping neck in every little noise of his apartment.

He runs his hand through the water, stirring it up, to distract himself with the sensation. When he gets out, he still hears the buzzing. He looks in the mirror, wondering if the Mirror Princess is watching him, if the Arm Spirit is waiting. Well bring it the fuck on, he thinks. He’s sick of living his life in fear.

He’s just gotten dressed when his buzzer goes off, and he grumbles, wanting some time alone and wondering if it’s his new neighbor, the one who always seems to lock herself out of her apartment and always wants to wait at his place while she waits for a locksmith to come and let her in.

“I’m busy—” he starts to say as he opens the door, and then looks up and sees Ami waiting for him. She’s tired-looking and rubbing one arm.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” Of course.

Ami stands in the middle of the room, still holding herself, before saying, “Mom had my phone. I would’ve replied if I could. Sorry.”

“‘s fine.” Akira shrugs. “Does she know where you are?”

“She thinks I’m just taking a walk.” Ami laughs, mirthless. “I’m twenty, I don’t need her permission to do everything, Akira.”

“I know, I know,” he says, jamming his hands in his pockets. His split palm stings. Ami looks too small now and he almost—but he doesn’t. It’s not like him.

“She doesn’t blame you,” Ami offers. “She knows I went by my own choice.”

“Okay.” This is brutally awkward. Akira looks at the floor before looking back up at her. “Do you want something to eat?” This, he can do for her.

“No…” Ami sighs. “But I’d really like a hug.”

Akira starts; he’s not a hugger, or much of a toucher. He’s hugged Ami maybe three times in her life and almost every time she initiated. Maybe there’s something wrong with him, but, well, he knew that. Stiffly, he steps forward and opens his arms, lets her come into them and wrap one arm around his neck, so close she can’t help but press her cheek to his. She holds on to him for a long time before releasing.

_Ami is sobbing, so wild and loud he’s scared his neighbors will hear and call the cops. She just woke up from a dead sleep like this, and Akira has no clue what to do so he leans in and wraps both arms around her, more to quiet her than anything. She stiffens, and starts to sniffle instead, hands over her eyes. “I had a bad dream,” is all she says. Kakuya, probably. “Thanks, oniichan,” she whimpers when she’s cried out._

He makes her tea instead, and they sit down to talk. Not about Yashiki. 

“Do you think they’re going to chase us?” Ami asks.

“Yes,” he says. “So you have to be ready. You’re in this now.”

“I was before,” Ami protests. Her face morphs into annoyance, almost offense. “I’m not a little girl, Akira. I’ve—I’ve seen someone die now.”

Hearing it aloud is so… “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s...it’s not fine, but I’ll be okay, I think.” Ami looks down into her teacup.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He never wanted this for her. Not again.

Ami sets her mouth. “Yes.” She puts a hand over his, so it’s wrapped around his teacup. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Okay.” He can’t say more, can’t express his relief and endless gratitude to her, his acknowledgment of her sacrifices, her fear. Their silence for the next few minutes is companionable. Truth be told, Ami is one of his best friends. Has been since she was a little girl, he thinks. She’s cool, and she’s smart, and she’s funny. She’s brave, so brave.

“I have a question for you,” Ami says. She gestures to her back, around her shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I joined when you were in elementary school, Ami. When was I going to tell you?”

“Well, you could’ve—! I don’t know!” Ami scowls. “Did you ever want to?”

“No,” he says honestly. Better that Ami sees him as she used to. Too late for that now.

“Why not?”

Because he wanted to stay her brother. In a selfish way, he wanted to stay her hero. “It wasn’t your business.”

The truth was, her mother would’ve murdered him. 

It happened shortly after he’d joined the Family, when he still thought he was so clever about hiding his new life from _his_ family. He’d been running from the cops and hidden in the back room of the Black Rabbit. He hadn’t expected Aunt Natsumi to be in that early, but she was and had the honor of distracting the cops while he hid. She came in the back and found him slunk over, avoiding her eyes.

“Akira,” she said. “I respect your decisions. But that ends where your decisions start to affect your family.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. I’ll never come between you and Ami, as long as you stay a good role model for her. But you can’t do that if your...occupation is threatening her.”

“She’s not in danger with me.”

“Wonderful. Make sure that’s so.” That had been the extent of their conversation, but Aunt Natsumi’s stiff shoulders, the way she wouldn’t look at him, made him feel...dirty. It made him dive in to the yakuza, if he wanted to blame his actions on someone else. He got his first tattoo a few months later. If nobody expected better of him, if he was now a danger even to Ami, what was the point in living a straight life?

Akira exhales.

Ami asks, “Have you ever been arrested?”

“Yes.” He did everything to hide it from her; Amanome helped. “Avoided jail thanks to Amanome.”

“For what?”

“It’s not important.” He doesn’t want her to be ashamed of him.

“Where does it end?” Ami asks. “Do you deal drugs, guns?”

“The Family doesn’t run drugs,” he says, starting to get irritated. “The Boss doesn’t believe in it.” They officially don’t sell drugs, anyway. Amanome disciplines the ones he catches doing it, but that doesn’t stop the subordinates from doing it on the side. You have to earn your own money, after all, and the dues are the same every month.

“Why did you do it?”

“I had no prospects after school and Amanome offered me a job, there.” He crosses his arms. “Ami—”

“Give me time, I don’t know who you are right now!”

“I’m still Akira.” Isn’t he?

Ami looks away from him, embarrassed. “I know.” She taps her fingers against the table. “What if you wanted to leave?”

“I don’t,” he lies. Amanome said once, in a whisper in his ear, that he’d never let him go anyway. He’d kissed Akira’s ear and said, ‘You belong here,’ and that was that. “I’m done talking about this.”

“Fine.” Ami gets up from the table. “Are you coming to Yashiki’s wake tonight?”

“What?”

“Hazuki wants to meet up and remember him. You should come.” Ami smooths her dress down over her thighs. “Seiji's coming.”

“Why does everyone assume I belong to him?”

“You’re attached at the hip, oniichan,” Ami laughs. 

“That’s my misfortune.” Akira nods. “I’ll be there. I owe Yashiki that much.” 

And he does, oh he does.

**

“Yashiki was a good friend to me,” she says. “After I retired from being an idol, I didn’t know who I was anymore. I showed up at Kujou Mansion, hoping to get some inspiration, and Yashiki took me in for a whole year. He helped me rediscover something I loved. He took me with him on investigations.” Hazuki dabs at her eyes and raises her drink. “To Yashiki.”

“To Yashiki,” everyone toasts. Even Akira is drinking tonight. The Black Rabbit’s business is slow tonight, as it usually is in the middle of the week, so here they are in the ambience. It feels like an appropriate place to hold a ceremony of remembrance.

The rest of the night is filled with quiet conversation, Mashita and Hazuki sharing stories about Yashiki’s adventures and what kind of man he was, and Akira’s only been to one funeral before, but this feels like a good one.

“Always knew this would be the death of him,” Mashita mutters, “but he didn’t care. Said it was his responsibility, because he was the only one who could do it.” An unspeakable sadness crosses his face, before Mashita schools it. “He was so self-important.” He takes a shot.

Hazuki pats his shoulder and the two exchange a fond look. Mashita looks like the shadiest man alive, but he clearly cared.

Hazuki is still refusing to so much as look at Amanome; Akira heard about what he did, how he prevented her from going with Yashiki, and he thinks blaming Amanome is easier than blaming herself. Having fought the Arm Spirit personally, Akira wants to let her know there’s nothing she could’ve done. That they just have to get their revenge now by being careful, like Yashiki warned.

“Well,” Mashita finally announces after too many drinks, “I better go. Got a big house to clean out, I guess.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” Hazuki offers.

He nods. “He promised some things to you, y’know. You remember Princess Mach? He wanted you to have the souvenirs.”

Hazuki smiles and rubs at her eyes again, tears coming anew.

Akira wonders what it’s like to live your life already knowing who gets your things when you die. Knowing death could come at any time, by your own choice.

Yashiki was brave.

Yashiki was a fool.

(Akira is a fool.)

Amanome trails him home after the funeral. Without a word, Akira lets him into his apartment. He’s starting to feel the spinning he gets from alcohol, and flops down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Amanome stands beside him for a moment, before sitting down.

Akira remembers the last time Amanome did that.

It was a summer night, muggy, hot. They were nineteen. Amanome kept making excuses not to leave his apartment, and then finally he crawled onto the bed with Akira, pinned him to the mattress. Akira looked up at him, watching, and Amanome leaned down to kiss him.

“It’s just sex,” he’d said, a few breaths away from his face. “That’s all it has to be, if you want.”

So they had sex, awkward and getting cramps from the positions and clumsy and finally feeling good right before it ended. He still remembers the urgent quality of the kisses, like...like Amanome didn’t want to let him go.

They had sex all that summer, whenever they could get a moment alone, and Akira doesn’t know when or if they made a conscious decision to stop, just that one day he went to kiss the other and Amanome laughed uncomfortably and pushed him away. And they never talked about it. It was like it never happened, and the moment to ask about it all passed in a blink.

It happened once or twice more, over the years, but it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. So why did it always leave Akira confused afterward, lying beside Amanome in bed in a love hotel or after a stolen moment in Akira’s apartment?

Amanome lies beside him now, shoulders touching, and then he asks, “Why did we stop hooking up?”

“You stopped talking to me about it,” Akira says flatly. “That’s it.”

“Y’know, I almost lost you yesterday,” he says. “I… It would be unfortunate. To lose you.”

“Why, because I’m useful?” Seiji’s dog, someone said once.

“Because you’re my best friend.” Amanome rolls over and kisses him gently, to avoid his nose. He actually plays with his fucking hair, trying to run his hand through the short strands, and Akira feels gentled.

Akira kisses him back. “Don’t do this to try and shut me up.”

“I’m not.”

They can’t do much in the end, with Akira’s injuries, so Amanome gets down on his knees and blows him. Akira’s almost embarrassed at how quick it’s over, coming in his mouth with a shudder and gasp, but it feels too good to really care. Amanome doesn’t even ask Akira to reciprocate, just kisses him again.

It’s quiet after the fact, and Akira puts his forearm over his eyes.

“This is the dream, Akira,” Amanome says from the floor. “You’re in this with me.” 

So that’s what this is about. The conversation they never have and are always having at the same time: ‘Do you want to leave the Family?’ “Not right now.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Amanome admits. “You and me, taking over the world. It’s just you.”

“Please go,” Akira says softly, lowering his arm and looking at Amanome.

Amanome frowns, but he stands up.

After he’s gone, Akira lets out a long huff of air, and he falls asleep with a restless feeling.

**

The next day he returns to work. He needs normalcy, so he buttons up a dress shirt and stretches out the aches and pains. He doesn’t want to face Amanome after last night, but no choice about it. Working with his best friend is a drag whenever they have a fight, which they don’t often, but. They have their way of communicating, and sometimes it fails.

Amanome is still a bit chilly to him, unnoticeable unless one knows him well. He takes a bit too long to respond to what Akira says, a bit more biting than normal. So he’s still pissed, oh well. Akira’s not sorry.

Amanome is still in deep shit after the fire, so he keeps a low profile around the office as everyone under him is scuttling to and fro, Akira included. Amanome’s always been insistent that he treat Akira no differently from everyone else underneath him, and Akira appreciates it because it makes him feel like he’s earned everything he has here. He didn’t appreciate the apprentice months, learning how to scrub toilets and serve tea the ‘correct’ way, and Amanome’s obvious amusement at making Akira do these things, but Akira earned his place without complaint. Now he bosses other people around when Amanome hands off the responsibility to him.

It’s almost nighttime when they’re finally done for the day, and still there’s so much to do for damage control. Amanome calls it a day, though, bidding Akira they go out to eat. Turns out he has an ulterior motive, as Hazuki is there waiting for them. Her face is stony as she considers Amanome, who Akira expects to mock her, but instead he just begins playing with his cuticles.

“Ami told me about her game with the Princess,” is the first thing Hazuki says. “So let’s brainstorm where they might try to find you.”

They do, coming up with the obvious—at work, at his home, at the bar—and the less obvious. He knows the Arm Spirit wants him and their final confrontation. He’s the perfect opponent for it, he realizes. And he can’t figure out the damn grudge. His visions have stopped as quickly as they came, and he can’t read his own blood forever. His connection to the spirit allowed him to see into its mind without Bloodmetry—like the spirits’ origins, he’s seeing other realities. (He wishes he had an answer for that monster Amanome, but then again, he doesn’t.)

“When will they strike, though?” Amanome asks.

“That I don’t know,” Akira says.

“Well, you better figure it out quickly,” Amanome quips, dragging his utensils across his plate.

“Thanks for your support,” Akira scoffs.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Cut it out,” Hazuki says crossly. “I’m not here for your nonsense.”

“Losing Yashiki made you mean,” Amanome says.

“Whose fault is it that I couldn’t be there?” she says, raising her voice so a waitress looks at them disapprovingly.

“Then you would’ve died with him, or he for you,” Amanome says without a hint of remorse.

“So you risked Ami’s life? Kijima, how are you okay with that?” She looks at Akira, hoping for support.

“I’m not,” he says, lightly punching Amanome’s shoulder for emphasis. His definition of light still makes Amanome wince. “He’s lucky he’s my boss, or else I’d kick his ass.” Maybe being flippant will end this argument.

Hazuki says, “I thought you’d never follow somebody else,” mockingly, and then gets up from the table. “Call me when you want to meet without him.”

After she’s stormed out, Akira looks at Amanome and says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be an asshole. Somebody died, Amanome.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

Akira lowers his voice. “If this is about last night—”

“My world doesn’t revolve around you, Akira,” Amanome says lightly, getting up. “Are you coming?”

Akira looks him in the eyes and says, “No.”

Amanome looks surprised, and then he smirks. “Fine. Have it your way.” When he leaves, he swings his coat behind him dramatically. Akira knows him: he’ll stay pissed for a day or two and then come back as if nothing happened. He’s done it since they were kids and fighting about trading cards or Amanome being a snob and other stupid crap Akira wishes they could fight about now.

Akira punches the table, again attracting the waitress’ negative attention. He doesn’t care.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs: Underage sex, statutory rape, drinking, past Amanome/Hazuki, Amanome being a shitbag in general.

Hazuki asks Akira to meet up the following morning.

“Do you ever work?” he asks her when they meet up outside of a department store, where she’s asked him to go shopping with her. Not his scene, but her friend just died so he figures he needs to capitulate to her.

“Why aren’t _you_ at work?”

“He told me not to come into the office today.” That doesn’t mean Akira has nothing to do; he’s supposed to be scoping out a local politician for Amanome, tailing him to see if he’s really meeting up with a high school girl for compensated dating, but that can wait.

Hazuki lifts a shoulder and tries to play it off. “Thanks.” Talking about Amanome is off the table for today. Akira’s not unhappy about that. They haven’t spoken except for that one email, shot off around 4am when Akira was guaranteed to be asleep.

He watches Hazuki grab clothes off the rack, muttering to herself about alterations and sizing. Her style has changed only a hair from when she was sixteen: dark colors, bows, frills. She asks for opinions he doesn’t have, and presses him until he makes something up. Despite himself he starts to relax thanks to Hazuki, and they end up on the fourth floor, people watching.

“He didn’t seem like it, but Yashiki liked to do this,” Hazuki says. “When I lived with him we’d go to a cafe and just...watch. I’d make up stories about what people were doing, especially ridiculous ones to try and get him to laugh.”

When Akira looks at her, her smile is wistful as she stares into the middle distance.

“He was a cool guy,” he offers.

“No he wasn’t,” Hazuki laughs. “He always woke up with the worst bedhead, could eat his weight in sweets, and Mashita would always find something to make fun of him for.” Her smile slowly fades. “I miss making fun of him.”

“Yeah…” Akira leans back against a display of home decor. “He saved Ami, so I owe him.”

“If he comes back as a spirit, you can thank him then!”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t.”

“Aww,” Hazuki says, seeming genuinely disappointed. She continues to talk to him about the people they see, and Akira nods along, trying to lose himself in the moment. “Hey, Akira,” she says after a while, “You wanna hear about what happened between me and Amanome?”

“I thought that was your big ace in the hole against him.”

“Forget that guy, he deserves to be embarrassed,” she mutters. “Come on.”

She leads him downstairs to the food hall, finagles him to pay for her Korean food, and sits him down in a far corner.

“So,” she starts off. “Fall, 2000.”

**

Amanome calls Kaoru on a busy morning, so initially she misses him. She has a photoshoot that day, and then a television appearance in the afternoon, followed by rehearsal for her upcoming concert… By the time she checks her phone it’s close to midnight, but she takes a chance and calls him anyway.

“Hazuki!” He sounds wide awake. “Thanks for finally calling me.”

“Is everything alright?” Her first thought is that something happened to Kijima, which would explain why Amanome is calling instead of him. She still talks to him regularly, emails mostly, but still he makes an effort and she appreciates it. She and Amanome are polite enough, Amanome ever putting on his gentleman act, but the truth is she just doesn’t have a lot to say to him.

“Oh, excellent, I just thought I’d check in with you.” He pauses, and she can hear him searching for a natural transition into what he actually called about.

“What do you want?” she says. “I know Kijima is fine. He would’ve called me himself instead of leaving it up to you.”

“Such a rude woman, why do you assume the worst of me?”

“I’m going to curse you if you don’t come out with it.”

Her manager gives her a look, and Kaoru waves him off to say everything is fine. He shrugs, used to her eccentricity by now.

“I’m coming to your agency. Make some time for me.”

“I’m about to go home!”

“Wait a minute, then, I’ll give you a ride.”

True to his word, he shows up in the back of a shiny black car befitting someone years older than him. He rolls down the backseat window and beckons her inside. Kaoru is reminded of her parents’ warnings to never go off with strangers, but it’s worse: she actually knows Amanome. And still she gets in the car.

He offers her a mapo tofu-flavored sparkling water, which she drinks out of curiosity more than politeness. He indicates to the driver to roll up the partition separating him from them, which he does. Finally, he says, “You wouldn’t happen to know Mippo, would you?”

Kaoru nods. Mippo, aka Akiyama Miho, is a rising idol and can charitably be called Kaoru’s competition. She’s a friendly enough girl, better at dancing than Kaoru but worse at acting. They have different managers but are represented by the same agency. Their longest conversation was about the bloody blisters on Miho’s heels from long nights of dance practice. Kaoru’s mother doesn’t like it when she gets too close to other idols, personally.

“Do you think you could get me an audience with her?” Amanome interlaces his fingers in his lap; he has a beseeching quality to him that Kaoru isn’t used to seeing. “Y’know, idol-to-idol, I figured she’d listen to you.”

“I didn’t know you liked idols.” She has tried (alongside Ami) with no success to get Kijima interested in them, or at the very least _her_ career.

“Oh, I could care less,” he says smoothly. “I need to speak to her about something more important.”

“Like what?”

“She’s pregnant.” He looks to the side. “By one of the members of the Family.”

Kaoru’s mouth falls open before she can stop herself. “She’s _sixteen_.”

“I’ve dealt with the excuse for a father, don’t worry.” That is not what she’s worried about. “What I need is to talk to her about her plans for the future. It can _not_ get out that a member of this Family committed statutory rape.”

“What about Mippo?” Kaoru says, indignant on Mippo’s behalf. Here Amanome is only able to worry about himself.

“Of course I care about what happens to her,” he says insincerely. “That’s why I have to talk to her. Just to make sure everything is copacetic.”

“Why should I help you?”

“I like to think we’re friendly enough,” he says, leaning back in his seat.

“Name one song of mine that isn’t ‘Wander Rabbits.’”

Amanome opens his mouth but Kaoru can almost see his thoughts trail off as he fails to come up with even one example. “Touchy, touchy. You act like we’ve never been through anything together.”

“I mean it, Amanome,” she says, tightening her hand over her knee. “Why?”

Instead of answering her, he unbuckles his seatbelt and then hops across from his seat to hers, puts an arm around her shoulders and holds her close and tight, so she can’t pull away. He presses his face against hers, close enough that their cheeks smush together, and with his free arm he holds up a digital camera, snapping a few photos before Kaoru can move.

“What are you doing?!”

“Getting insurance,” he replies. He releases her and returns to his seat; she fights not to kick him in the shin. “You do this for me or I give this to a friend of mine, and the next day Momo Kuruse’s new relationship is going to be all over the news.”

Kaoru feels herself flush, and then she really does dig her heel into his shin so hard he winces. “How dare you?” she says. “I... I...”

“I can weather a bit of scandal,” Amanome says. “Can you?”

For the fiftieth time this year, Kaoru cannot believe someone as nice as Kijima is this guy’s best friend. But before she snaps at Amanome, she takes a moment to think. Those photos go out, and everything good in her life goes away. No more fans, no more opportunities, giving endless apologies that won’t improve her situation, and her mother’s cold fury.

In the end there’s only one choice.

**

Akira rubs a hand down his face. “Do you want me to beat him up for you?”

Hazuki shakes her head with a small smile. “I’m over it. He can’t exactly hurt me with those pictures anymore.”

Akira still wants to punch Amanome for that stunt, and for his behavior last night. Maybe he will next time he sees him. “So what did you do in the end?”

“I cooperated. He had his little talk with Mippo, and I have no idea what he told her, but she quit the business a few weeks later. Last I checked, she has an elementary schooler now.”

Something about this story makes Akira both sad and embarrassed to know almost everyone involved. He shakes his head. “I leave the two of you alone for five minutes.”

“Something always happens,” Hazuki jokes, mirthless. “Blackmail, people dying.”

The conversation comes to a dead halt, both looking away from each other, before Akira finally says, “What part of this story embarrasses Amanome? This is all normal for him.”

“It’s what happened afterward.” Hazuki winces. “This next part is embarrassing for me, too, so be nice.”

**

Amanome takes her out to eat after he’s done with Mippo; Kaoru goes because she’s worried if she doesn’t he’ll still leak the photos. He’s ebullient, holding the door for people as they head into the restaurant and winking at their waitress, and Kaoru wants to be anywhere else.

“Thank you very much,” he says over their meal.

“You’re so welcome,” Kaoru says without warmth.

Amanome chatters as he eats, and manages to prod Kaoru into a conversation about a drama on which she has a recurring guest role. So he does know at least one thing about her. Kaoru stares a hole through him the entire time.

When they’re done, he pays and asks her to walk with him, which she does. They walk up and down the main street and then off of it, down a side street which Amanome says leads to somewhere exciting. Kaoru wonders if she’s about to witness a murder or a drug deal.

What they come to is an honest to God love hotel, and Kaoru looks at him and says, “No.”

“Please, not with you. You’re not my type.”

“Why are we here?” If she gets caught entering a place like this, her career is over.

“Trust me.”

“No!”

Amanome goes on ahead though, and half out of curiosity and half out of obligation, Kaoru follows him. Amanome tells her this entrance has no cameras to contend with, and the room was booked in advance.

In the room, a garish pink with more sex toys than she cares to contemplate, Kaoru stands instead of sitting anywhere near him; Amanome sprawls out in the bed. On a table in the room is a bottle of Hibiki whisky. It’s the choice of someone young who wants to look old.

“You drink?” she asks.

“Not often, but sometimes. Don’t you?”

Kaoru nods. “Sometimes.” Her mother will never know, but sometimes her manager treats her after a particularly tough day, or sneaks her a cigarette. It’ll ruin her singing voice, he always scolds her, but he still gives it over. Kaoru reflects that life feels emptier when nobody ever denies you.

Looking at Amanome, she’s reminded that someone does deny her, even if it’s just her sanity.

He rolls over, crawls across the bed to retrieve the whiskey from the table, and then sits on his heels. He pats the space across from him, but Kaoru remains standing. He shrugs and opens the bottle. “Want some?”

Forget it—in for a penny, as they say. “Sure.”

In time Kaoru is sitting across from him on the bed, a respectable distance apart. They’re taking shots directly out of the bottle, not caring about indirect kisses or anything childish like that. They’re playing a game Kaoru played once with other girls at the agency, “Never Have I Ever.”

“Give it, give it, I _have_ done that,” Amanome slurs, and takes a long slug off the bottle.

“No,” she says, feeling as drunk as Amanome sounds. “Liar.”

“I absolutely have!” He chuckles. It’s his turn to say something he’s never done, and he holds out the bottle. “Never have I ever kissed the opposite sex.”

Kaoru debates the pros and cons of answering honestly, before taking the bottle and drinking from it.

“Hazuki,” he says, disbelieving, teasing.

“Calm down, it was for a role.” Her co-star at the time tasted like mouthwash and still had halitosis. “I can’t believe you’ve never done it.” She scoffs. “Was it the same sex?”

Amanome takes the bottle from her again and sips it before answering, “Yes.” He blinks sleepily and then mumbles something before flopping back on the bed. “You didn’t hear that.”

Kaoru breathes, “Who?!”

“I just said you didn’t hear it.”

“Kijima,” she jokes.

Amanome rests his forearm over his eyes as if hiding from her scrutiny. His face is already flushed from the alcohol but she can swear she sees it deepen. When she repeats the name he sits up just enough that he can drunkenly swipe at her and put his hand over her face. She bats him off.

“Are you serious?” Kaoru says.

“Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead,” he says with no threat in his voice.

“So when are you going to kill Kijima?” Kaoru jokes. She scoots closer to him, takes the bottle away, and lays beside him. “Why don’t we have a secret from him?” she says, only knowing she’s curious and he’s here.

Amanome picks up on her hint and rolls over, clumsily mashing his mouth against hers. If this is how he kissed Kijima, Kaoru cannot imagine they’ve done it more than once. She pushes his head away, adjusts his angle, and then pulls him back, showing him how to do it gracefully. The effect is nice until he sticks his tongue in her mouth, tasting like the whisky.

She’s never had a boyfriend, never been allowed to entertain the idea of a boyfriend. She doesn’t want Amanome and the boy she does want doesn’t want her back. Apparently he might want Amanome. Amanome isn’t the answer to her problems, but he’s here and doesn’t resist when she puts her hand under his neatly buttoned shirt.

Hazuki keeps her eyes closed when he’s inside of her, feeling that she’s full but it’s not pleasurable by itself, and too late realizing she has no idea how to make it feel good. She doesn’t want to pretend he’s Kijima.

When it’s over she sits up, watches Amanome scoot away from her to sit on the end of the bed. His back is bare; she wasn’t sure why she was expecting him to be tattooed now.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Amanome says, examining his nails. “You’re fine, but you don’t interest me.”

“Something tells me no woman does,” Kaoru says dryly. She bends over the side of the bed, searching for her discarded shirt.

“They don’t,” Amanome says softly, looking down at his lap.

Kaoru pauses mid-donning her shirt. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. There’s only one person who does.”

“Kijima?”

He nods. “Tell him and you’ll disappear, of course.”

“Show anyone those photos and I’ll tell him what you told me.”

“So it’s mutually assured destruction, then.”

“You know it,” Kaoru says, laying back and staring at the ceiling, hands folded over her stomach. “Why tell me?”

“‘Cause I don’t care what you think of me.” So it must’ve been on his mind for a long time.

“Are you sure you aren’t possessed?”

Amanome laughs, humorless.

**

Akira’s mouth is open, his heartbeat quickening, his skin growing hot. He doesn’t want to react like this in front of Hazuki, but he can’t help it. “What the fuck?” he says.

“It’s the truth.” She shrugs. “I don’t mean to make things awkward, but maybe talk to him?” 

He can’t talk about it. Amanome can’t feel the same way today, it was so long ago. Even what he did the other day was just…sex. The same sex they had when they were horny curious teenagers. A way for Amanome to make him malleable enough to say what he wanted to hear. Akira knows him so well, he would’ve seen this earlier.

“I…sure?” he gets out. “Forget what he told you.”

“I try, but it’s kind of obvious looking at you two. I don’t judge.”

“What do you mean ‘obvious?’”

“Kijima. He set a building on fire for you.”

“He was saving my life.”

“You’re constantly together.”

“I work for him.”

“Have you ever even been with a woman?” she says bluntly.

There was one girl. He dated her just to see what it was all about. She really liked him despite himself, but when they slept together he understood the definition of ‘It’s just sex.’ It was awkward, mechanical, and with no emotion on his end. He’s not proud of this, but he stopped returning her calls and messages shortly after.

Hazuki takes his silence as confirmation of her belief and says, “You see what I mean. It’s not my business, but talk to him. I don’t wanna watch you two dance around each other for another ten years.”

It warms his heart a bit that Hazuki sees them all being friends for another ten years. Akira shelves that thought. “You’re right, it’s not your business.” He can’t look at her. “I won’t let him disappear you though.”

“I think if he really wanted to he would’ve done it the first time I threatened him.”

“Honestly? Probably.”

Hazuki smiles. “See what I mean? I wouldn’t be shocked if you finished each other’s sentences.”

“Shut it,” Akira mumbles. He knows one thing for sure: he has one more problem to deal with now, and it’s this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't believe hazuki had to tell both amanome and akira that they were gay. hazuki's pov was v v fun to write, back to the spirits plot next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

Akira tries to clear his mind of all distractions as they leave the food hall. What the _fuck_ does he do with the Amanome information, for starters. It jives with Amanome’s recent behavior, the pleas, the sex, but… This has been their normal for twenty years, back when they were each others’ only friend in school. When they feel the other slipping away they do stupid shit like join the yakuza. It’s just them.

Hazuki distracts him, probably eager to draw attention away from her part in the story herself, and as they leave the department store she asks, “Are you any closer to figuring out the grudge?”

Akira shakes his head. “Well, he hates me. The only reason he hasn’t killed me yet is he wants to keep playing with me. He’s had multiple opportunities to off me.” Not unlike Kakuya, honestly, which gives him a chill.

“What about the Princess?”

“Ami told me something—that the Princess remembers him as her brother. She won’t leave his side unless he crosses over with her. It’s what keeps her here.” Akira tells himself it’s not because he killed her. That her pain and confusion aren’t what bind her to him. “She doesn’t recognize me,” he says bitterly. It would be a lot easier if she did.

“What sort of grudge is strong enough to lead a spirit to wander to a completely different time?”

“What?”

“A hatred of the self,” Hazuki posits. “The only way he can face himself is to...find another version of himself.”

Well, he can’t argue with her there.

Before they part ways outside, Hazuki says, “Oh yeah. Yashiki liked to do something when he couldn’t find the source of a grudge. He meditated on it. Try it.” She turns and waves to him before disappearing into the crowd.

Akira watches her go and considers the fact that you can know someone for ten years and still barely know them at all. He’ll have to ask Amanome about her story sometime. When they’re finally talking again.

Akira goes home and gives what Hazuki says a try. At first he can’t focus, and feels ridiculous for trying. Meditation, really. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, he thinks, before remembering with guilt that he should give Hazuki more credit. She traveled with Yashiki, after all.

He gets up to use the bathroom and splash his face with water. When he looks up, he notices his straight razor on the shelf above the sink. He takes a deep breath as he ponders if the idea he’s just had is worth it.

He takes the razor in hand, flicks it open, and slices cleanly across his left palm. The blood wells up from the cut, red and angry, and he touches his other hand to it.

_He sees through the monster’s eyes, watching out of the mirror at the Black Rabbit. The Mirror Princess is holding on to the hem of his hoodie, looking up at him. The monster strokes the Princess’ head and as if saying, ‘Go,’ mumbles something indecipherable._

_“Are you sure?” the Princess says uncertainly. “It feels like cheating.” The monster squeezes and she shakes. “O-Okay.”_

_The Princess works her magic and opens a portal to the world of the living, and then she steps through._

Shit, shit, shit, Akira thinks as he jumps up, running for his bike and calling Aunt Natsumi with his good hand. She doesn’t answer. He can’t wait. So he rushes.

**

He charges into the bar when he arrives and finds what he was afraid of: Ami shrinking back against a wall, the Princess overbearing on her. She’s staring Ami down with an unreadable expression, but she doesn’t feel friendly.

“Ami!” Both Amis look.

“Oniichan! Get back.”

He shakes his head. “Ami,” he says, addressing the spirit. “You caught us, great.” He offers the only thing he has: himself. “Forget about her. You can have me.”

The spirit thinks about this before shaking her head. _”Oniichan said I have to share now.”_

“Do you really want to do that?”

She doesn’t answer.

Aunt Natsumi creeps out of the back room slowly. “That’s Ami?” she asks quietly.

“Mom, get out of here,” Ami warns.

“Ami,” Aunt Natsumi says, getting down on one knee and opening her arms. “Come here.”

“Get out of here!” Akira says.

“No. I’d recognize my daughter anywhere, and you’re hurting aren’t you Ami? Do you think I don’t recognize you? Are you frightened?” 

The Princess stands confused, her arms by her sides. Finally she utters, _”M...om?”_ She turns toward Aunt Natsumi.

“You don’t have to take care of your big brother. I’ll take care of him. I’m responsible for you both.” Aunt Natsumi beckons again. “Come here, Ami.”

So fast he can’t see it, the Princess rushes Aunt Natsumi and he steps towards them, knowing he won’t make it, when she makes impact.

 _”Mom!”_ the tiny spirit cries, standing in the circle of Aunt Natsumi’s arms. _”I...look…_

“I know, don’t cry,” she says gently. She holds the warped, shouldn't-be-recognizable Ami close. “I’ll stay with your brother until he feels better. You can go back now. If I know me, I’m waiting for you two in the afterlife.”

_”Oniichan…”_

“I’ll be fine,” Akira says, looking down at his fist. “You can go now.” When he looks up, Aunt Natsumi is alone, her arms empty. 

A grateful giggle fills the air. 

Aunt Natsumi looks far away for a moment, then surprised, and then she smiles.

“Do you think we resolved her grudge?” Ami asks.

“I think we did,” Akira replies. “How did you know that would work?” he asks his aunt.

Aunt Natsumi shakes her head. “I didn’t. I just can’t stand seeing my children hurting.” She wipes her eye and with a look to Ami says, “I miss when you were that small.” The sleeves of her shirt have been cut open where she touched the Princess, but she doesn’t appear to care. “Ami told me about the poor girl’s worries.”

“Hey,” Ami says, pointing at the spot where the spirit was. In her place is a small pool of blood and a purple cell phone, one Akira remembers from his teenage years. It rings, playing ‘Wander Rabbits,’ and Akira swallows. Approaching, he picks up the phone and says, “Hello?”

A heavy, rolling growl on the other end of the line.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit,” Akira says. “You didn’t give a damn about her.”

The growl increases in intensity before fading off into animalistic panting, then the line cuts out.

“What was it?” Ami asks.

“The Arm Spirit. It’s pissed.”

“Go figure,” Ami says flatly, and that spurs a single laugh from Akira, a surprise even to himself. “Are you going to do that thing with the blood?” Ami asks.

“How do you know about that?”

“Kaoru.”

“What _do_ you two talk about?” he mutters as he reaches out. He sees again through the monster’s eyes.

_He tilts his head as he watches Her embrace someone. Who? Why? The feeling it brings up nags him, making him confused. He remembers this place. He doesn’t want to._

_She said it wouldn’t hurt anymore, when she transformed him, but it does more and more, the longer he exists in this shape. The more he remembers, the less he wants to._

_The feeling tugs at him, wrapping around him, and he pulls at his face with his human hand. Why?_

_Why does he know these people? And what does he do without Ami?_

_That name again. He feels, faintly, that it used to be a part of him, inextricable from his sense of self, his identity. He needs Ami, it says._

_So he’ll have her._

Akira puts the phone down by his side, not realizing he was holding it up the whole time. “You can’t go with me,” he tells Ami, and she screws her face up.

“Why?”

“Because it wants you, and I can’t send you to it.”

Aunt Natsumi, having wrapped clean rags around her arms, nudges Ami with her elbow. “I won’t either, Ami.”

“Maybe I can get through to him,” Ami protests. “I saw what the Mirror Princess saw in him, I think I understand—”

“I won’t take you.”

“I’ll follow you! There’s a lot of mirrors in the world!” Ami folds her arms. “When will you let people help you?”

“Not. You.” He sighs. “Do you want to see another dead body?”

Her eyes widen. “You won’t die.”

“I can’t promise you that.” The Arm Spirit killed Yashiki, who was a far more experienced fighter in this arena.

Ami puts a hand over her mouth. “You aren’t allowed to die.”

“Neither are you.”

“Ami, Akira,” Aunt Natsumi interrupts. “Are we in danger right now?”

“Probably,” Akira admits. “I’m really sorry, Aunt Natsumi.”

Aunt Natsumi closes her eyes and exhales. “Why does it always come down to you, Akira?” She opens her eyes. “Why does it always involve Ami?”

The guilt crushes him as she looks at him, the same kind way she always does but her disappointment, her fear is plain.

“I’m _really_ sorry,” he says, useless. He eyes her and she covers her arms. Not wanting him to feel guilty, probably. “I won’t drag Ami down with me.”

“If you have no choice but to go, go,” Aunt Natsumi says mournfully, and then leaves to clean herself up.

**

Hazuki is ecstatic when she finds out about the exorcism. “So now that’s one spirit down, and the Arm Spirit can’t find his way into the living world now.”

“Not quite right. As long as spirit chasers exist, there’s always a chance people could open a portal for him to come out.” Akira cracks his knuckles, his phone held between his jaw and shoulder. “So we have to deal with him.”

“That...makes sense,” Hazuki says over the phone. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Yep.”

Akira hangs up, feeling good that Hazuki is on his side. Then he does something he didn’t expect to do. He calls Amanome.

**

Amanome shows up at Akira’s apartment after the sun has set, shaking snow from his hair.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Amanome says.

Akira shrugs. “’s okay. You would’ve been in the way.”

“Maybe,” Amanome says, chuffing. “Ms. Natsumi sure is incredible, isn’t she?”

Yeah. She really is. “I don’t know that I ever would’ve thought of that.” He couldn’t reach the Mirror Princess in the end, but her mother could.

“Of course you wouldn’t have,” Amanome jokes.

They stand across from each other, alone together. Akira opens his mouth, closes it, and shakes his head.

“Akira?” Amanome is as capable of reading him as Akira is of reading Amanome.

“I have to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Anything, best friend.”

“Hazuki told me…” He trails off.

Amanome sobers instantly, his eyes growing wider. “Whatever she told you, she’s a liar. Probably just stirring up trouble because she’s bored.”

“Are you sure?”

Amanome gives a fake, unconvincing laugh. “Okay, you caught me, _maybe_ I wanted something more back then, but I don’t now! Swear. You have no curves, for starters.”

“Really, because from what she told me, you don’t give a shit about that.”

“You’re really going to believe her over me?”

“Why did you blow me a few days ago then?”

“Because I wanted to! It was just for fun.”

Akira steps forward, putting one arm up by Amanome’s head. “You have a weird definition of fun. And then you told me all that weird stuff about wanting to rule the world with me, almost begging me not to go.”

“I was drunk.”

Akira looks him in the eyes and says sadly, “…Of course I never wanted this, you dumbass. You just never wanted to hear it.”

Amanome has a pained expression and he shifts under Akira’s eyes. “To what are you referring?”

“You know what. Being in the Family. It was a means to an end for me to be near you.” Akira looks him up and down, sees his palms are pressed tightly to his thighs. “At least I never lied to you by omission.”

“You lied every day by staying when you didn’t want to.” Amanome’s face becomes cruel, mocking. “Go ahead and leave, see how much fun it is to build a straight life when you have the ex-yakuza taint on you.” He leans in and gives him a kiss, brief but sensual. “Like it or not, it’s you and me until the end, Akira.”

Maybe it should’ve been the end a long time ago. Akira grabs his jaw, holding him still and planting a kiss on him that feels raw and possessive. Like Amanome, like them.

Releasing him, Akira thrusts his other palm out against the wall, caging Amanome with his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was just—”

“It wasn’t just that to me.” Saying it out loud makes it...powerful. New. “You’d know if you’d asked.”

“Akira…”

These are the most words Akira has said about it in years.

“I wanted that,” Amanome continues. “I _want_ that. I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t.” He shakes his head. “We are perfect the way we are.”

“I thought so too.” Akira kisses him then because he can’t deal with this, this conversation and this all coming from Amanome. He feels Amanome’s hands at his waist, fiddling with the bottommost button of his shirt, and then deftly working their way up, unbuttoning as he goes. Akira tilts his head and bites his neck, making him gasp. His hands squeeze Akira’s bare waist.

They end up in bed, tearing off clothing and biting and snatching and moaning; there’s a certain passion to it that there wasn’t before, in the open-mouthed kissing and clutching and body-to-body embraces. Akira shuts his eyes, panting, as Amanome moves over him, inside him, screwing his hand up in the sheets. When he comes, he moans, “God, oh fuck,” and Amanome smiles down at him.

They lie around afterward, not talking or needing to, and then Amanome reaches for him again, stroking him hard, and lavishes him with his mouth. He likes to do that, make him come multiple times until he’s sore. Like he owns a little part of him, and maybe he does.

Would be a time they’d fuck a third time before finally resting, but Akira’s not nineteen anymore and he just kisses Amanome goodnight. Amanome spreads himself out over his chest and lies with his head pressed to Akira’s neck.

“I told you. We’re perfect just the way we are.”

“Yeah.”

**

Amanome is asleep now. They’ve had sex a bunch of times but never fallen asleep together before now. Akira’s arm is over him and his chest pressed to Amanome’s back, and he closes his eyes, feeling Amanome breathe for what might be the last time. He thinks of twenty years of casual skinship and wonders why it took so long for them to get here. Right before Akira goes to Kakuriyo alone.

Akira slept off and on, and now he sits up, leaning over and gently pressing a kiss to Amanome’s cheek; when he stirs, Akira stills.

“Akira?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, don’t wake me up,” Amanome mumbles, sinking back into the bed.

“Sorry. Just going for a walk.”

Akira slides out of bed, gets dressed again, mourning that Amanome apparently tore off a button. He looks on Amanome the whole time, still asleep but suddenly the most interesting thing Akira has ever seen. He shrugs on his jacket and puts on his boots, grabs the keys he won’t need soon and his wallet out of habit, shoulders his backpack. 

Amanome will be safer this way, Ami and Hazuki, too.

The world outside is hushed as snow continues to fall, and Akira has to kick it up as he walks, it’s gotten so deep. He walks in the direction of the Black Rabbit, noting where the photo booth used to be, fingering his key to the bar in his pocket. Outside the bar he pulls his phone out of his pocket, wondering if he should call...somebody. Someone who won’t call the others and pull together a cavalry, someone to explain himself to so they don’t waste their time looking for him. But they love him, they won’t listen to what he tells them, or his reasoning. 

To protect them, he has to disappear.

Akira puts the phone away.

Inside he can’t escape the cold, and he hurries to the back room and the mirror he and Ami came out of not too long ago. He doesn’t bother to turn the lights on, using his flashlight instead so he doesn’t alert anyone that someone is in here. He sets up a hand mirror and then steps in between them, letting the spirit road pick him up and sweep him away.

Maybe it’s better this way, or just easier for him, but it’s not like he’ll live long enough to regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achievement: Mirror Princess Saved.
> 
> Are the boys actually talking to each other now, or dancing in circles?
> 
> Next chapter is the last plotty chapter, to be followed by an epilogue.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: evisceration!

Ami wakes up because her phone is making a racket by her head. She fell asleep messaging her friend from university, trying to pretend everything was normal and she had not just seen her mother quell a spirit. She expects it to be Akira but, squinting at it, is surprised to see it’s Seiji.

“Is your brother with you?” is his first demanding question.

“No? I don’t know?” she says, voice still hoarse with sleep.

“Can you check?”

“Seiji, it’s 5AM.”

“Just do it Ami, please.” There’s a harried quality to his tone, something she’s not used to hearing from Seiji, that gets her out of bed and wandering the small apartment. The only person asleep on the couch is Mom, who probably stayed up after their very long talk earlier that evening. She’d been stern, she’d cried, she’d talked about happier times, and ran the whole spectrum of emotions a mother could have for her daughter in about three hours. Ami regretted making Mom feel that way, but she had to for Akira’s sake.

When she reports back to Seiji, he mutters something about Akira being an idiot and then says, “He must have gone ahead without us.”

“To where?” Ami yawns.

“To the Realm of the Dead. He’s the only one stupid enough to think that’s a viable option.”

Ami’s emotions, torn between terror and anger, war inside of her. Anger that Akira would be so stupid, terrified that he won’t return. She tightens her grip on her phone, digs her toes into the floor, before she says, “Meet me at the bar.”

“I’ll call Hazuki. She’s fought alongside Yashiki before.”

At his name, Ami hears a crack and whips her head around. She half-expects him to be a spirit, haunting her specifically as he died in her place. That sort of grudge… But he’s not yet, so she can’t worry about it. The night it happened Kaoru came back inside, gave her a big hug, and said it wasn’t Ami’s fault. And still, Ami went home and cried like she never had before, scaring Mom with the force of her sobbing.

“Okay, I’ll see you two there,” she says, already going for her coat and shoes.

“Ami?” Mom says sleepily from the couch.

“I’m just going for a walk, Mom.” It’s too easy for Ami to lie to her.

“Come back safe,” Mom says in a tone that suggests she doesn’t believe her.

**

Akira keeps turning his head side-to-side, looking for danger. The spectral light of the mirror world of Kakuriyo casts stark shadows, making it hard to see what’s at the end of the long, narrow passages he follows. Following Yashiki’s example, he has zip ties at the ready for the Arm Spirit. His bag is heavy on his back, filled with tricks.

He wanders for what feels like ages, his footsteps echoing. He wants to shout and get it over with, but he needs what little surprise he has.

He thinks it’s too quiet, and then he hears it: the low rasping. He spins around, weapon up, and the Arm Spirit is there, reaching for him with his tentacle. Akira feints to the right, punching at the air and flicking it away from him. The spirit hesitates, thrown, and when he tries again Akira dives, rolling when he hits the ground and bowling into the spirit’s legs. The spirit’s rooted, but that’s not what Akira was aiming for, as he deftly reaches up and secures the tentacle to the spirit’s leg.

Rolling away, he jumps back up and, breathing evenly, says, “If you wanna fight me, make it fair.” Then he raises his fists. He can’t wear the spirit down but he can surprise him and distract him enough to get enough distance so he can search his bag for another method of fighting. Hazuki said once that suzu bells only work for women, so that’s out, but he has a few more ideas.

The spirit is confused for a moment, pulling and twisting his tentacle arm, but then he nods at Akira. They square off and then—

“Hahahahaha!” a female voice rings out, one he sometimes hears in his nightmares. “Oniichan, I finally found you!”

Oh shit. He’s in no condition to run, not like Kakuya couldn’t catch him anyway. She did before.

But the spirit seems afraid too; he straightens up, and then before Akira can blink he bolts, disappearing into thin air. Akira tenses his body, looking around and just waiting for the worst. He expected to die, but not like this. Not as hers.

What he does not expect is Ami to round a corner, rubbing her throat. Amanome and Hazuki are following her, curious expressions on their faces. Ami smiles at him apologetically. “It’s been a long time since my voice was that high.” She’s the only other person here who’s heard Kakuya’s voice. Of course she can imitate it.

He steps towards her and grabs her shoulders. “That was brilliant. Never do it again.”

Ami giggles. “I figured if the spirit is you, he would be afraid of Kakuya. Pretty smart I think.” She looks him over. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “He didn’t touch me.”

“Nice to see you, Akira,” Amanome says, folding his arms and staring him down. His simmering anger is apparent. 

Akira wants to shrink under it for a moment, before he shakes his head. “Sorry. I thought—”

“You didn’t think,” Hazuki says lightly. “We’re your friends. I said we follow you knowing that we could die.”

Akira thinks of the visions the Arm Spirit showed him, of all of his companions from the NG Days’ deaths. “I never wanted to ask that of you.” He doesn’t want to bear that burden again, the thing the spirit can’t get past. That it was his fault all of his companions died. 

That he hates himself.

Akira doesn’t know who the ‘she’ the spirit thought of is, or what the transformation refers to, but he does know he can’t let the Arm Spirit continue on this way, hunting and killing for sport. In a way, he’s in hell just like the Mirror Princess was. Caught in an endless loop of reliving his greatest pain, soothing himself by chasing and killing prey to distract himself from the human emotions seeping back in.

“We’re here to purify a spirit,” he says. Yashiki is wrong this time. Akira was wrong. Not everything needs to be destroyed.

His friends look at him: Ami smiling, Hazuki nodding, Amanome playing with his hands again.

Looking at Amanome, Akira is reminded of something he didn’t do earlier. He walks up to him and punches him square in the shoulder. “That’s for what you did to Hazuki,” and again, “and for what you did to that teenage girl.”

Amanome rubs his shoulder and has the sense of mind to look chagrined. “So she told you about that as well.”

“Yes she did,” Hazuki says, sounding pleased with herself. She holds her hand out. “Give me your bag. I know you have some of Yashiki’s things.” Hazuki takes it off of him and retrieves the suzu bells; Ami reaches in and digs out the cell phone.

“What are you gonna do with that?” Akira asks.

“Well, you talked to him on this. I thought maybe he could communicate through it.”

“We didn’t actually talk…” But Ami isn’t listening and slips the phone into her pocket. Akira knows he never really could control her.

They set off in a direction Akira vaguely recognizes, tense as wires and twice as sharp. Without communicating they arrange themselves in a circle, backs to each other so they can see outward.

“It moves fast,” Akira advises them, “and I don’t know if I can tie it up again.”

“I should’ve brought something fast myself,” Amanome says.

“Guns don’t work on spirits, idiot.”

“Why not? A katana did.”

Akira groans.

It happens before he can sense the danger. The air changes and suddenly the group splinters apart. The Arm Spirit has crashed through them, Amanome and Hazuki hitting the mirrors and getting winded. Akira catches Ami before she can hit the ground, puts her back on her feet and behind him before he turns.

The Arm Spirit is growling, freed. And focused solely on Akira.

The suzu bells have no effect on it. Amanome and Hazuki are pushed back and through a mirror, disappearing. The world is unstable without the Princess, and the spirit dips in and out of them like portals, surrounding him.

Akira doesn’t feel the hit at first, and then it engulfs him, the pain and the searing of being torn open in the middle, and he holds his stomach. Blood covers his hands and when he looks down his abdomen is cut across the middle, gutted. He’s been gutted.

He collapses against the wall.

“Wait,” Ami says, stepping in front of him.

Ami holds up the phone, holding a button down that sets the ringtone off. ‘Wander Rabbits’ begins beeping out. The spirit listens to it for a moment, and then holds his head.

Akira has an idea; he presses his right hand to his bloody stomach to see what the spirit sees.

_The first thought is of pain. The music digs into his senses, flooding him with emotions he doesn’t want to have. He sees and hears Amanome, singing the song to himself as they walk down the street in summer; he sees Hazuki, giving their own private concert; he sees Ami, humming to herself and dancing in his apartment, her headphones sliding off of one ear. He even sees Aunt Natsumi, smiling as Ami dances for them._

_These were the people he cared about. And now they’re gone. His fault. His fault. His—_

“They don’t blame you,” Ami says in a gentle voice. “They cared about you. It was their choice to follow you.”

The monster groans, and tears at his hair.

“Move on, oniichan. I’m waiting for you, all of your friends are waiting for you,” Ami urges.

_There is pain, and then there is peace as a realization washes over him. He can feel them now, waiting patiently as they always have been while he lost himself. What he’s done flashes through his mind, and guilt floods him._

“I forgive you.”

The Arm Spirit stumbles backwards, hitting a mirror, and when he touches it, the mirror splinters and so does his arm. He slowly falls apart, piece by piece, and soon he’s gone, leaving behind only a black smear along the mirror.

Akira coughs and the force on his abdomen is agony. He wants to speak, but he can’t.

“I think he’s gone,” Ami says, and then stumbles over to him, her strength gone. She sits down beside him and holds his arm. Ami leans her head on his shoulder, resting there with a sigh. Her hands relax on his forearm but still she holds on to him, before settling and hugging his arm. “I thought if I reminded him who he was, it would work.” A smile is in her voice. “I hope he’ll be happy now.”

“Ami, go,” he says, voice hoarse. His blood is warm through his shirt and endless.

“I don’t know the way,” she says quietly.

“Your mom is waiting.”

“I know,” she says, tears in her voice now. The flashlight is useless to her if she doesn’t know the way, he thinks. And she won’t leave. She dies because of him. Amanome and Hazuki are lost too, so they’ll die together but alone.

They sit in silence for a while, tired, afraid, before Akira starts to feel himself going cold and numb. He doesn’t want Ami to see him die. The pain is gone now. ‘Go, at least for this,’ he wants to say, but his mouth can’t form the words. Ami continues holding on to him.

Akira closes his eyes for a moment, and then another moment, until he can’t keep them open. He can barely hear a voice, sound is just a rush now.

Everything is a rush now.

**

Their time is limited, so Kaoru hurries. She and Amanome grow more lost by the moment, though, and soon they’re completely turned around. All of the mirrors look identical. She frowns. “Where do we go?”

“I have no idea,” Amanome admits, shaking in the cold.

Suddenly the area is lighter, and she warms up. A friendlier presence is here. Kaoru stops still, seeing at the end of the passage is a white rabbit. It stands on its hind legs, nose twitching in the air, before bounding over to them.

“Hello,” Kaoru says, bending over to pet the rabbit. It leans into her touch. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you sure that’s a friendly spirit?”

“It hasn’t eaten us yet,” she counters. “Did you come to help us?” She swears the rabbit nods its little head, and then it hops away from them, turning the corner.

They chase it, around the corner and down a few winding turns, until they come to a long, tall mirror. The rabbit sits down and looks up at them. 

“This is our stop?” Kaoru asks.

The rabbit twitches its nose at her, before hopping forward and rubbing against her ankle, more cat than rabbit. 

Kaoru pushes Amanome on ahead, through the mirror, and to the rabbit she bends down, picks it up, holds it to her chest, and whispers, “It was nice to see you again. Thank you for everything.” 

Then she sets him down and leaves Yashiki behind for the last time.

When they find Akira and Ami, Amanome is clearly panic stricken, so Kaoru takes over again, ordering him to help her carry Akira while Ami searches for a mirror that opens into the real world. 

“Over here!” she finally calls. They rush, and break into the bar.

They are safe. They are free.

**

Akira opens his eyes again.

The ceiling is white. When he moves his eyes, because he’s so dizzy moving his head is a struggle, he can make out the edge of a person. Or rather, four people.

“Akira, hi,” Aunt Natsumi says first, hands over her chest.

“Good morning,” Hazuki says beside her, clearly relieved, though he has no idea if it’s morning or just Hazuki being Hazuki.

“Oniichan!” Ami sniffles, and her mom rubs her shoulder as she starts to cry.

Amanome just smiles at him. They fuss over him, talking over each other, and he closes his eyes, falling back asleep.

When he wakes up for the second time, it’s just Amanome in the room, sitting with one ankle crossed over his opposite knee, phone in his hands, his primary weapon. “Hey, brother,” he says finally. His smile is easy, like Akira didn’t almost die. “Well? How do you feel?”

Terrible. He’s still too zonked out to speak, and when he tries to sit up his entire abdomen screams at him, it feels like he’s being repeatedly stabbed even after he lays flat again. The morphine drip has clearly worn off.

“I wanted to transport you to a more, ah, discrete place. Sorry about that, but you _were_ dying on the floor. I don’t know how Ms. Natsumi is going to get the blood out of her flooring.” He smiles. “Ami is fine,” he says, anticipating Akira’s question. “Probably traumatized, but physically fine.”

He approaches the bed and looks down at Akira. “I’m working on chasing the police off as we speak. I know you wouldn’t want them to bother your family. There’s the little matter of you being unable to work, but we can sort that out.” He stands up and takes Akira’s hand. “I mean it,” Amanome says, still smiling. “You’re absolutely useless to me now.” He hasn’t let go of the hand. He holds on until they hear footsteps.

**

Akira’s birthday is sunny and mild. He wakes up in bed alone, Amanome having bailed on him last night for a work thing he wanted to handle alone. It helps; his scar tissue pulls at his insides sometimes and he likes to be alone when he’s in pain. He takes a shower and lets his hair dry before getting dressed for work. Funny how all he wanted to do was leave, and now after weeks of recovery all he wants is to return to work. Maybe has something to do with the fact that his savings are exhausted from being unable to work, and Amanome is a pro loan shark, so Akira can’t turn to him.

Hazuki has emailed him a ‘Happy Birthday’ e-card. Ami is unhappy she can’t return in time for his birthday party, but he reminds her she has to take her part-time job seriously and she tells him to stop being such a big brother. Everyone banded together to take care of him, no matter what he said: Hazuki dropped by or kept in touch via email when she had to work; Ami and Aunt Natsumi brought him food that didn’t aggravate the nausea he felt from his pain meds; and Amanome, well, Amanome did everything else from helping him bathe to, with much complaining about it being gross, changing his dressing.

“What possessed you?” Akira asked him once as he gently peeled off the bandages from his midsection and pressed down on the wound, cleaning it.

“Kakuya,” Amanome fired back, and made him laugh unexpectedly, which hurt his stomach.

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“Don’t be so proud.”

“Anything but proud,” he said, and Amanome just lay him back on his pillow.

Everyone at work thinks he was injured defending Amanome; the culprit has mysteriously never been found, as he’s a composite of everyone Amanome doesn’t like. Someone actually claps when he walks into the office, others patting him on the back for ‘saving Seiji.’ He doesn’t enjoy his newfound popularity but Amanome makes him put up with the free lunch and retells Amanome’s fake story about what happened.

When the day is done, the work never done but Amanome calls it so they don’t miss Akira’s day, they amble to the Black Rabbit.

“Happy birthday oniichan!” is the first thing he hears as Ami emerges from behind the bar.

“I thought you had to work.”

“I lied,” she says with a smile. “I’ve never missed your birthday!” She hands him a box and inside is new leather gloves; he had to throw away his favorite pair after the spirits incident, they’d been so covered in blood that they stank. He tries them on, squeezing his fists and trying to break them in.

“Thanks, Ami.” He remembers when her gifts were all handmade, little origami animals and boxes or artwork that she made, one time a little cake she was so proud of that he didn’t have the heart to remind her he didn’t like sweets.

He’s bombarded with well wishes and gifts, until he wants to say, ‘Enough already,’ but everyone means well. So Akira puts up with it until the night is over. When it is, Amanome and Hazuki flank him and say they’re going out for a late-night meal, which he also sits through because grilled chicken.

He’s starting to fall asleep by the time they want to call it a night. They walk him home. Hazuki bids them goodnight and walks off in the direction of Kissouji Station.

Which leaves Amanome standing there expectantly.

Akira lets him in, and is unsurprised when he pushes him up against the counter before he can close the front door. Amanome waited patiently—very patiently—for them to be able to have more sex since Akira’s injury. And tonight apparently he’s done waiting. Akira puts his arms around his neck and kisses him deeper; Amanome gropes blindly at the air, his hand catching on the front door and swinging it shut. 

Here’s Akira’s secret: he does really like kissing. He likes Amanome’s fascination with his bare hands when he remembers to take his gloves off.

After, Akira lies there panting, the other lying beside him with one knee crooked up and petting his hair. Akira’s hair is too short to play with but that doesn’t stop him from trying. There’s a certain intimacy there that wasn’t there before, after months of Amanome washing his back and hair because he couldn’t bend over or raise his arms.

Perfect.

**

But nothing is perfect forever.

An argument comes up. They’re at Akira’s place when Akira off-handedly mentions something he’d do if he didn’t work for the Family, which sets Amanome off. The fight gets dirty, unlike them, and finally Amanome throws his arms down, face twisted.

“What do you want, Akira?” Amanome asks him.

So Akira tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I had to.
> 
> Also finally Akira got put in the hospital like he should've two injuries ago dknfkdkl.
> 
> Arm Spirit: saved!
> 
> There’s an epilogue coming soon, but until then let me say thank you so much!!! This is probably the fastest I’ve ever written a fic of this length and it was possible because of your support. I was thrilled by your reactions and speculation. I plan to go back and fix the errors at…some point, just be patient lol. What I will say is some of the ends were left loose so you can imagine whatever pleases you. Writing this fic was just really, really fun so thank you again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cw: death of a parent

**One**

Another winter, about one year after the first incident with the Arm Spirit. Akira is at work, greeting customers and slinging bowls of noodles, when he looks up and sees someone new entering the shop, hanging up their umbrella and with a soft, amused expression aimed at him.

He freezes.

Amanome looks well; it’s been months since they spoke, so Akira wasn’t sure what he expected. Amanome is always _looking_ well, even when he doesn’t sleep for two days straight because of work or he’s telling off a subordinate. 

When their eyes meet, Akira says, “Welcome,” in a less than sure voice.

Amanome lifts a hand and sits down. Akira attends to him before he can say, ‘Excuse me.’ They go through the motions of customer and server, and Akira leaves with his order a little too quickly. 

As he works, he watches Amanome out of the corner of his eye. He’s not eating, just stirring the noodles around, occasionally sipping the broth to look like he has business here. He’s watching Akira as well. 

When Akira has a free moment, Amanome calls him over.

“Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine, thank you.” Two mundane lines and yet a world of meaning and nuance in them. “When do you get off of work?” 

The answer used to be ‘Whenever the hell Amanome says,’ and Akira does not miss that facet of his old job. “Late.” It’s a vague answer on purpose. He’s not ready for the controlled chaos Amanome will introduce into his life. It’s been so calm for the past few months.

“I’ll return, then. Wait for me?”

“If I feel like it.”

Amanome abandons his full bowl of noodles. What a waste.

Akira works the rest of his shift, from close to cleanup, with irritation. It’s just like Amanome to come back like nothing happened, like he didn’t outcast Akira from his entire life. What does he want now? 

What does Akira want? The last time he was asked that question he left the Family and crashed back into the normal world. It’s been hard, but these days he wakes up feeling better about himself.

He finds himself waiting outside the shop after close, warming his hands as the night is cold. It’s been a deceptively light winter so far. He doesn’t fondly remember the hellish snow and ice of last year; it was fitting for the time though.

Amanome strolls up, hands in his pockets. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Normally he’d ask what they were doing tonight and offer him a ride back to the office when they were done. He remembers doing that way before, when they were still kids. The first ride, flying, unable to hear Amanome laughing over the noise of the engine but able to feel that he was in the jostling of his arms, the jumping of his chest against Akira’s back.

It was so easy to be happy together back then.

“You wanna take a ride?” he offers.

“Yeah,” Amanome says, looking relieved.

They have nowhere to go; the last conversation they had in Akira’s apartment was raw and hurtful, saying things just to say them out of anger, and, well, the other place they’d normally go to is the office.

Akira hands him the spare helmet anyway. When Amanome sits down and touches him he almost leans away. It feels weird when the last time they saw each other they were focused on being the biggest assholes possible to each other. Still, Amanome has to hold on to him, so he does.

They ride for a while, going nowhere, and it’s when Moon Tower comes into view that Amanome taps Akira’s knee three times, indicating he wants to stop. They come to a stop and get off the bike. They stand not too far from it, side-by-side and not looking at each other.

Amanome says, “Do you remember—”

“I do.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he protests.

“Demon Tsukuyomi.”

“Well, yes, but I like to think I’m not that predictable.”

“I remember you saying weird shit like, ‘We die together.’”

“Well it was appropriate for the situation!”

Akira laughs once. “It was.” He remembers the feeling of not just his own life in his hands, but Amanome’s as well, apologizing to him in case he’d gambled wrong. Not unlike right now; he has to weigh what he says carefully. “Why did you come to the shop?”

“I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“And what did you find?”

“That I was right—you’re a survivor. Couldn’t imagine you doing customer service though.”

“It doesn’t come easy to me,” he admits. “The owner is really patient.” The owner is ex-yakuza as well. When Akira applied, the owner only said, ‘I hire people who work hard, it doesn’t matter where they come from,’ and Akira knew he was going to be fine there. This next part he asks more hesitantly: “Were you hoping I would fail?”

“I’d never wish bad things on you.” 

Akira knows him too well to not know when he’s telling the truth. Amanome’s not trying to work him. His pride won’t let him apologize for the silent months, but he’s here now. “How’s everything going at the site?”

“I don’t talk about work with outsiders.” But of course it is Amanome, so he has to throw in a barb. It’s nice to see some things never change. “It is a pain to work without an assistant.”

“I bet.”

They stand in silence for a while, gazing at both the moon and its namesake. He wonders who will cross the impasse first. He doesn’t know how and Amanome—

“I still think of you,” he says. “You’re quite distracting. I worry, and I dwell, and sometimes I dream that you’re still around.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands like he used to do Akira’s. “I never said I wanted us to be enemies.”

“You were very clear about what I should do to myself if I left.”

“Okay, you girl, when are you going to stop throwing things in my face?”

Akira scoffs. “Maybe I won’t. Would you still want to be friends then?”

“Yes.” He walks his fingers up Akira’s right arm, stopping where he knows the monkey is inked on him. “I guess it’s a good thing you never went further with tattooing.”

Akira remembers that Amanome wanted him to get something new shortly before Akira left, though he doesn’t remember what now. That information got swept away with the sea change of his life. “If you do this, you better mean it.”

“I do.”

“I’ll kick your ass if you ditch me again.”

“Okay.” He takes Akira’s hand instead, tracing a circle in his palm with his thumb.

Here’s the truth, the only truth: Akira misses his best friend. Before this they hadn’t been apart longer than a week for almost ten years. He thinks they’ve done almost everything two human beings can do together. ‘I will destroy, kill, or die for you,’ is the unspoken rule of Them.

Akira leans down and kisses him, not sure if this is ‘Hello’ or ‘Goodbye.’

* * *

**Two**

Amanome Taizou’s funeral is on a sunny summer day. Seems wrong. Akira is sweating through his suit by the time they’re standing before the casket. Akira is on Amanome’s one side, Mrs. Amanome on his other. Amanome looks too composed, the only hint to any sorrow he feels in his tightened eyes. Akira has never pretended to understand the father and son’s relationship. Amanome didn’t act like he minded his father, but he did respect him. Maybe what’s getting to him is the knowledge that he’s the boss now. His entire life up until now has been preparation for it. He’s ready.

Looking sidelong at him, Akira sees he looks anything but.

After the receiving line and the reception and the endless, endless descriptions of how tragic this is, dying so young and unexpected, what a strong man Taizou was, Amanome inclines his head, indicating he wants Akira to step aside.

“Let’s get out of here,” is all he says. “Mom’s got this.”

“He’s your old man.” Not like Akira understands the feeling; he’d spit on Miroku’s grave before he’d mourn. He only understands attending a parent’s funeral and having no idea how to feel.

“Pops wouldn’t be surprised,” he says with a wistful expression. “There’s only one place I wanna be.”

They commandeer a ride and go back to the office. It’s empty, of course. It’s never totally empty like this.

The first thing Amanome does is sit down, not on a couch but at his father’s desk, so comfortable it looks like he’s going to put his feet up on it. He puts his hands behind his head, fingers locked. He’s staring into space, not aware that Akira is watching him. There’s that blank expression again. Akira doesn’t like it.

He sits down on the desk.

“Pops would kill you if he saw that.”

“Good thing he’s not here then,” Akira says, hoping a little black humor will bring Amanome back.

He laughs a short, brittle laugh.

Looking at Amanome, he knows that they both might be cracked on the inside but right now he’s truly broken, sightless as a shattered mirror, deaf as a stone, and dumb as a doll. And the worst part is he’ll pretend he’s fine, because he has to. Business is business and it doesn’t wait no matter what he needs.

Akira thinks, ‘I can’t leave him this way,’ and he does so because he remembers a time when nothing was okay, when his sister was gone and he was in so deep he couldn’t tell if he was going up or down. What’s one more thing to do? A few more years, just until things are stable here?

What’s the rest of his life worth anyway? Ami and Aunt Natsumi don’t need him anymore and Hazuki never did; if he starts sinking, at least they can’t go down with him now.

Akira tugs on Amanome’s elbow and when he sets his arm down he takes his hand, pulls it onto his knee. It just says, ‘I’m here,’ and that’s all it needs to say.

“It’s already a lot more work than I thought it would be,” Amanome admits.

“Yeah, I bet. You can do it though.”

“With you here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, and he means it for now.

They meet in the middle, kissing softly again and again, and when they break apart Amanome is giving him an unreadable smile. Sad, mocking, grateful, Akira has no idea.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he promises. And he’ll make that a true statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I really mean ‘soon’ or did I lose the war with my patience? You tell me.
> 
> Come on. You think I can have time travel as a plot element and not show multiple potential realities for the ending?
> 
> I was like, “I can write an ending that’s happier for Akira or happier for Amanome (the one where his dad dies, so happy dkfdk), but which???” And then I realized no I don’t have to! Pick whichever ending you prefer for them. I know I have my preference, but what about you?
> 
> Also, still considering writing that “Hazuki’s year at Kujou Mansion doing dumb spirit shit with Yashiki” fic. If you’re interested let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> Choice quote from my outline: "i keep telling myself this will be a gen fic but i know i’m lying"
> 
> Forgive me for any canon errors. Thank you if you read.


End file.
